


Wings

by espioc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Past Memories, Trauma, Windblade likes to snoop, Wing Mutilation, and ask questions, and press, because i imagine vividly describing wings being torn out of someones back can get a bit "gory", like very light, very very light gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10296989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: A new trend has fallen upon Cybertron. Hunters are out for Wings, stripping them from live bots while they lay awake, limp, unable to defend themselves. Starscream fears for his people.And himself.





	1. Chapter 1

Wings

  
Some were more valuable than others. Lazy Mechs with shanix to spare were willing to pay top dollar for a prime pair to hang on their wall.

Others were keen to go out on the hunt themselves and maybe, if they were good at it, make a pretty penny along the way.

It had become a sport, wing hunting. Hunters targeted poor bots with pretty wings and mutilated them. Tearing the wings from their back. Rarely was a bot spared from the torture with sedatives or something to seize the nerves. They were incapacitated and mangled, then closed up and left where they lay to writhe in pain until whatever it was that bore them limp wore off and they could be on their way.  

Some clients liked having the tear marks. Indication that they were fresh wings from real living bodies. The most valuable kind. Others, with more seemingly refined  tastes, liked fine cuts with crisp lines.

This new trend had rendered all of the wing bearing bots in the city terrified. They were afraid of going out for a simple fly. They didn’t feel safe in their homes, and they certainly didn’t feel safe outside. A wing Hunter could be anyone. Any individual mech could pick up the practice. Wings had become trophies. They were the pride of a sick mech out for the kill. They left their victims alive and grounded, sealed off to prevent bleeding out.

After such a pain however…

Nearly all bots would have rather faced death.  

The agony of having ones wings torn off was enough to cause someone to offline. The drugs often injected upon extraction did not numb much of the pain. It only numbed it enough for the victim to survive.

This trend, this “wing hunting” was something Starscream and the delegates were quickly and desperately trying to eradicate. Those even suspected of participating in the practice were arrested, and those found with wings in their possession were jailed immediately. Many grounders seemed to have no understanding of why this issue seemed so important. They had no sympathy for their flying Cybertronian brothers, seeing the tearing of wings as something more on par with an arm or even a finger. Painful, sure, but nothing to get too worked up over. Fixable. They thought.

Wings were fixable, true. To an extent at least. But the pain of having then torn off…

It was not an arm. It was not a finger. They were wings. They were the pride of flyers. They were sensitive and sleek. Lean and individual. You could not just fix wings. The pain. The trauma of have having them ripped from ones back was something not even the most powerful processors could ever move past.

Windblade, in all the time she’d spent with Starscream, had never seem him more determined to put a stop to something. It was all the mech seemed to concentrate on. It was the only issue he ever seemed to bring to the table upon meetings, and every time he asked what was being done he received the same answer. “as much as we can,” It was lame, but it was all Ironhide could give him.

Meanwhile Wheeljack had been assigned to “wing duty” as he often referred to it. He was tasked with creating Artificial wings while the doctors of the planet were supposed to be figuring out ways to speed up the healing process.

Wings were a difficult thing to try and get to grow back, so providing his grounded citizens with ways to get around had become one of Starscream’s top priorities. Without flight many bots were prone to depression. If grounded for too long some were even drawn to suicide. Those who still had wings but felt the need to lock themselves in were likely to experience the same feelings. Flyers were inherently claustrophobic, and their susceptibility to cabin fever was much more prominent.

Windblade, despite being a winged bot herself, found Starscream’s concentration on the the issue to be excessive. There were still a few parts of the city that needed attention, and a few colonies remained to be contacted. Cybertron had many issues, this was not the only thing the ruler should be concentrating on.

The city speaker stepped into her superiors office to confront him on the issue, having been sent by many a bot, including Ironhide, who was supposed to be concentrating all of his attention on the “Wing hunters.” He pushed the point that there was more crime in the city than that, and their resources should be more scattered.

“Lord Starscream,” Windblade announced her presence, “do you have a moment?”

He must’ve, he was just staring out the window.

“I can assume what you’re here to talk to me about,” Starscream replied, not even sparing his visitor a glance. He had dropped his generally venom laced tone. “I am not over reacting. believe me. Grounders such as Ironhide could never understand the importance of stopping this trend.”

“But I can,” Windblade countered, coming to stand just behind him. “I’m a flyer, just like you. Just like them. And I understand that this issue is serious, but there are other issues that we should be putting more resources into. It’s likely this ridiculous “Wing Hunting” business is a fad that will pass. There are more pressing issues that require your attention.”

Starscream’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the glass. His slightly annoyed face loosened just a moment later.

Windblade decided to try and push the issue in Starscream’s favor. That seemed to be the only way to get through to the mech. “a majority of the population are grounders. Your ratings have gone down since your concentration has fallen upon your fellow flyers. They think you’re being biased.”

“I want to help my citizens,” Starscream said. It sounded almost genuine. Which surprised the city speaker. Starscream continued. “the winged bots are currently in need of attention. I will not sit by while I allow people to fear leaving their homes and kill themselves in their berths simply to avoid the cruelty of others,” He turned his head to the side “I am aware such things are common. But now it has a direct cause that I can be-rid of,” He turned his head forward again, “I will not pass up such an opportunity again”

Windblade took a moment to consider the point. She didn’t get far in her thought before Starscream began to speak again. “have you ever had your wings torn off, Windblade?”

The mere thought caused the city speakers wings to quirk with attention. “I can’t say I have,” She answered after getting over the shock of the question. Of course she hadn’t. Very few had. It was a rare occurrence anywhere. The mutilation of ones wings was done through intense hatred, or, more recently, for pride. She had heard it was quite painful.

Starscream finally turned to her. “well I have,” he began, taking a step towards her.

To say Windblade was surprised would be an understatement. Starscream was no one’s favorite bot, but to tear off his wings…It was hard to imagine anyone could muster such rage and hate. She could not fathom a bot going through such unbearable pain and still standing with such pride and confidence, even falsified.

Starscream’s wings twitched and stiffened at the memory though his face remained stoic. “twice,” he continued, shocking the city speaker even more.“I would much rather someone tear off both my arms. I am not a sympathetic mech, nor do I generally allow my self to feel much empathy. But I must tell you. The agony that comes with having your wings torn from you back is a pain I would not wish upon even my greatest enemies,” he walked just slightly past her, “I am going to stop this foolish trend before it gets out of hand. And I am going to do everything I can to help those who have been affected by it.”

Windblade was surprised by how serious of a tone he’d taken. She had not heard him speak with such pure intent since the Titan incident. It was strange, to say the least.

She turned and watched as the leader vacated his office. She followed just a moment later, thoughts swirling about her mind. She wondered who’d torn off his wings. Why? What had he done? She was curious as to how Starscream had found himself in such circumstances. Starscream was not a stupid bot, nor was he in any way defenseless. He was a difficult mech to get the drop on and would be hard pressed to just sit there while someone just tore off his wings. She imagined he’d put up more of a fight than that.  

She assumed Starscream would be hard pressed to tell her anything about the likely traumatic experience. The city speaker took a moment to think. ‘But I think I know who might’ she thought to herself, hoping who she had in mind knew enough about the other side to know about _this_.

  
———————————-

  
Optimus raised an optical ridge. He had accepted Windblade's invitation to the bar, though somewhat reluctantly. He needed a break. He was not expecting an interrogation.

“I’m curious as to why you were compelled to come to me for this,” He stated, staring at the city speaker from across the table. “I’m sure there are plenty of former Decepticons who would be willing to tell you. There are many here who would tell you that and more.”

“More?” Windblade inquired hesitantly. “what do you mean?”

“Starscream’s many beatings at the hands of his former master were no secret. Any of his former warriors will tell you that, and they would be more than willing to laugh with you about them.”

Windblade’s lip twisted with slight confusion. Beatings? His former master? Apparently she was more out of the loop than she thought. She would have to go snooping. But that was later.

This was now. “so…You know who tore off his wings?” She pressed again, leaning forward slightly.

“Everyone knows,” Optimus answered. “you could probably ask anyone here who was once part of a faction. It was news, Megatron mutilating his own Second in Command. Starscream was out of commission for a while until he could reform. The leader was somewhat angered by his own actions, from what I understand. I’m sure he took it out on Starscream,” then Optimus took a sip of his drink.  His demeanor was far too casual for Windblade's comfort. “you say that as though it's…Normal.” she said, shifting her drink in its cup, no longer very thirsty.

Optimus lowered his beverage. “unfortunately that’s because it was.”

“So it was Megatron then,” Windblade spit out quickly. “I suppose, from what I’ve heard…That makes sense,” She forced herself to take a sip. She knew that Starscream had served under Megatron for four million years. That was the extent of her knowledge. Windblade could not fathom why the current leader of Cybertron had continued to serve the Decepticons despite the way he was treated. She decided that was an issue for another day and took another sip. The city speaker waited before asking her next question. “what about the second time?” She inquired, lowering her drink.

The Prime seemed confused by this. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m afraid I am not aware of any other instances in which Starscream had his wings torn off.”

Windblade’s face twisted with confusion and disappointment. She supposed she would have to press the seeker for that information. She took another sip from her drink.

She wasn’t about to do it now.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Windblade could not quite figure out why she was so curious about Starscream’s former wing situation, but she found herself searching through data records seeing if there was anything about “Wing Hunting” or something of a similar sport budding even earlier in Cybertronian history. One that might have caused Starscream’s wings to fall victim to such cruel treatment. Windblade had deduced, after briefly checking with a few former Decepticons, that Starscream’s unfortunate circumstance had most likely occurred before the war. 

She found wing binding, wing clipping, wing reshaping, almost every other cruel thing that had been done, but no mention of Wing Hunting, or anything related. It used to be a sport to come up behind and unsuspecting flyer and snip off just the tip. It was a cruel “prank” as the records referred to it. This wasn’t much of a prank, in Windblade’s optics. 

Windblade found herself shuddering at every description she found of all of the less than desirable behaviors Cybertronians had once taken part in. Apparently Wings were a very hated feature. The wings of cold constructed bots even more so. The constant mentioning of “Constructed Cold” lead Windblade even deeper into the data records until she was submerged in the dark history of Cybertron. 

The Wars, the “Spark Slicing” to be later referred to as Cold Construction. She read about the intense apartheid that had occurred, and the eradication of these bots proposed the functionists. Zeta Prime. Nova Prime. The various religions. Starscream’s execution of the council. Megatron’s rise from a minor to a warlord. It all sounded like a nightmare. She began to wonder if such prejudices still existed on the planet to such a great extent. It didn't feel like it in some places. In others she couldn't be sure. Cybertron remained so divided. From faction to planet to forged and cold constructed. That discriminant, specifically, seemed to be something of a big deal. 

“Windblade?”

A voice jolted the city speaker from her thoughts. She turned from the databank to see a large shuttle bot standing behind her. She couldn’t remember his name but she recognized him as someone from Optimus’ team. 

“Oh, uh-”

“Jetfire,” the white bot completed, taking a few steps closer. “Optimus told me you were asking about Starscream,”

Windblade sat more attentive, turning full to the bot. “That’s right,” she confirmed. “I’m trying to figure out who tore off his wings.”

Jetfire’s face twisted in something similar to confusion, but more on par with concern. “Why?” he inquired. “Hasn’t Optimus already told you?”

“No-- well, yes, he told me who tore them off the first time,” Windblade turned back to the monitor and brought up the old war report that told her the same thing Optimus had. Jetfire looked over her shoulder as she explained. “It was Megatron, I know that. According to Starscream though, he’s had them torn off twice. I’m just...I’m curious as to who did it the first time...Did-- Optimus  _ send  _ you here?”

“He did,” Jetfire answered immediately. “And you won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

Windblade perked with surprise. “So-- you know what happened?”

“I have a good guess.” Jetfire began to walk away. “Follow me.”

Windblade had to jog a little to meet the wide striding bot. “Where are we going?” she asked, coming up next to him. 

Jet fire took a second to answer. 

“To earth”

 

* * *

 

“You want me to what?-- Yeah, I mean, it’s kind of a sensitive subject, you know, but--- well, you’re not wrong there….It’s back!? No. No no no no no, we eradicated that didn’t --- well, I guess old habits die hard. I’ll be there, you’ll just have to wait, Marissa just got off the elevator. I’ll see you soon, bye.” Thundercracker hung up his comm. He looked down at his human companion from where he hovered beside the Eiffel tower. 

“Who was that?” asked Marisa, leaning on the railing, admiring the view. 

“No one important.”

 

* * *

 

Jetfire and Windblade touched down beside Autobot city. In the five years since their original ‘invasion’ Cybertronian and human cooperation had improved somewhat. Only somewhat. Regulations had been put in place and some countries banned Cybertronian interference entirely. 

That barely stopped them from treading wherever they pleased, of course, but Earth was trying. Before Wing Hunting Starscream’s main concern was trying to get Optimus to stop doing what he was doing and leave the earth alone before they created  _ another  _ intergalactic incident. Which they already  _ had.  _

Since the Wing Hunting incident had arisen Starscream seemed to have forgotten about earth entirely.  

Windblade looked around. She’d never been on earth before. It was...dusty. Sandy, warm, the sky was pretty, she liked the clouds. It appeared to be nearly as barren as Cybertron from the small bit of it she could see. 

“Where is he?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the sky. 

A second later the unmistakable sound of jet engines echoed throughout the sky. Windblade turned in the direction of the sound. She spotted a dot on the horizon, quickly barreling towards their position. A blue jet swooped towards where they stood on the ground, and quickly transformed, landing on it’s pedes. 

“So,” Thundercracker started, approaching his fellow bots. “It’s back, is it?” he asked, a sneer setting itself on his face. 

Windblade didn’t know who Jetfire had called. She was unfamiliar with the bot who now stood before her, though he looked oddly familiar. 

Jetfire stepped forward slightly. “Thundercracker, this is Windblade,” he introduced her. 

Thundercracker’s expression changed entirely. “Oh!” he called. “ _ You’re  _ Windblade? The...the, what’s it called. The City-speaker right? Optimus talks about you. I’m Thundercracker. Seeker, aspiring Screenwriter. Dog owner. What brings you to earth? Jetfire mentioned something about-” His easy expression fell into a scowl. “Wing hunting,” he spat.

Windblade was also surprised. “You’re one of Starscream’s trine mates, right?” she inquired, pointing to the blue bot. 

Thundercracker scoffed. “ _ Former  _ trine-mate, thank you very much. Those days are long behind me,” he looked to Jetfire again. “You called me to talk about Wing Hunting, now what's the deal? Is it back or not?”

“It’s back,” Windblade answered for him. “But nothing in the records indicates that it’s ever been there in the first place.” 

Another scoff. “Of course they wouldn’t The first time the trend came around it was entirely legal.”

If Windblades eyes popped any wider they would probably break. “ _ Legal?”  _ She stressed. 

Thundercracker waved a hand. “Legal in the sense that it wasn’t necessarily _illegal._ It started out as just a stupid thing born out of prejudice, but it evolved into being a sport. Forged flyers tore off the wings of the knock offs because they weren’t blessed by-- Primus or some, other nonsense,” thundercracker waved a dismissive hand. 

Windblade furrowed a brow. “But why wasn’t any of this recorded?”

Thundercracker lifted a brow. “You really think the forged council cared  _ at all  _ what happened to the knock offs? It wasn’t  _ important  _ enough to record.”

“Than why was everything else after that?”

Thundercracker let slip a stiff laugh, “You really think wing clipping and binding are the  _ only  _ things they’ve ever done to us after that? Those were only put into the history books because they occurred  _ after  _ the senate was already gone and Cold bots started to fight for their rights. Before then “Wing Hunting” was quite common, among other things,” Thunder crackers eyes narrowed with suspicion, but his face read confusion. “Why did you come to me for this? I’m sure Screamer could--”

“He won’t talk,” Windblade interrupted. “I have a feeling it’s a bit too-- personal for his liking”

Thundercracker put on a face that said Windblade should be aware of something she obviously wasn’t. “Well yeah it’s personal,” he started. “Before Megatron got to him Screamer had his wings shredded  by some faceless bot with a superiority complex...Is  _ that  _ what you came to ask me about?”

“How did you stop the trend the first time?” Windblade ignored his question. 

“We--” he stuttered, falling back into the memory. “We didn’t. I think--” he couldn’t quite remember how it’d stopped. At the time it didn’t matter  _ how  _ so long as it was over and he could feel safe flying around again. He released a throaty sigh. “I don’t remember. Honestly. If you can get Screamer to talk I’m sure he can tell you. He’ll never admit it, but he nearly cried when it was finally declared illegal.” Thundercracker smriked. “Skywarp laughed at him for it,” the smirk fell. “If it is back, like, for real, the way it was. You need to stop it, whatever it takes. I don’t  _ like  _ Cybertron. But it was my home. And I do have wings,” they flapped a bit as if expressing their existence. “And as much as I don’t like Screamer, I never want to see anyone experience a pain like that again for as long as I live.”

Windblade had no good reply. “It’s--” she started, just looking for something to say. “It’s all Starscream is concentrating on.”

“Good,” Thundercracker almost snapped. “As well it should be,” he turned away slightly, waving a hand. “I have to go,” he declared. He began to walk off. “I’ve got a dog waiting for me in Paris,” Before taking off he looked back to the city speaker. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call, Jetfire can give you my number” then he was off, leaping into the sky and bolting off. 

A few seconds after the seeker left Jetfire turned on a heel and went back into the Autobot city, heading for the space bridge.  

It took Windblade a few seconds to realize he was gone and give chase. “Why did we come to Thundercracker for this?” she asked, hovering beside her companion. She knew enough about Jetfire to know that he was around well before the war. Being a flyer himself she imagined he faced the same danger as everyone else. 

“My assumption was only a guess,” Jetfire began, activating the space bridge. “I thought it better to go to someone who’d be more knowledgeable on the subject than myself. I didn’t know Starscream for very long. If I can say at all,” the bridge lit up. “Not to mention I was never in as much danger as all of them,” he input the coordinates. “I was always more concerned than the grounders, but still less than the seekers. I’m a shuttle frame, taking me down was out of the question for most,” he shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t think you should hear anything from a bot who couldn’t fully understand the gravity of the circumstance.” he turned fully to Windblade. “I assumed, based on what I know, that what Thundercracker said was the case. Optimus most likely sent me thinking I could tell a story of the same nature.”

Windblade approached the bridge. “I guess that makes sense,” she muttered. 

“I hope the information he gave you helps.”

Windblade looked at the shuttle. “I believe it did,” she turned her attention back to the space bridge. “Now I know what I’m looking for.” another glance to Jetfire. “Thank you for the help.”

“Any time.”

With that Windblade stepped through.  As soon as she was back on Cybertron she went immediately to the archives. 

Apparently allowing her curiosity get the better of her was pulling Windblade deeper and deeper into what started to feel like an investigation. That was not her purpose on Cybertron, she was the city speaker, nothing more. 

And yet, the more Windblade gathered, the more interested she became. Her thoughts raced as she read through data file after data file. She began to read between the lines. Look for patterns. As the day drew to a close Windblade determined she needed to make a decision. 

Leave this “Wind Hunting,” business to those in charge of investigating it. 

Or…

Do it herself. With whatever help she could get. 

Windblade lit up her comm and input a new number. 

She perked when someone answered. 

  
“Thundercracker? Hi, it’s Windblade-- How would you feel about coming to Cybertron?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry these chapters are so short, the next one should be longer as we really get into the meat of the story.

Windblade waited at the space bridge for her guest to arrive. She very purposefully stood there well before his arrival so she could keep the blue seekers visit under Starscream’s radar. From what she could tell they were not on the best terms. 

Not like it was really that great of a concern, however, as Starscream had more important things to worry about. The last time she checked Starscream was furiously building something at his desk. According to Wheeljack the leader of Cybertron built weapons when he was frustrated, no doubt fantasizing about using his creation to eradicate the source of his frustration. It felt like a habit they should try to abolish, but considering he had turned over nearly every weapon he’d built to Wheeljack it fell low on the priority list. 

Windblade was drawn away from her thoughts when a figure emerged from the space bridge. 

“Well,” Thundercracker started, crossing his arms. “I’m here. What’s so important I had to return to this--” he looked around for a bit. “Place,” he nearly spat. 

Windblade lifted a brow. “You really hate it here that much?”

“Tell me, how much good has Cybertron done _ you _ ?” 

Windblade drew back for a moment, considering the statement. 

Thundercracker eased, letting out a small sigh. “I don’t--  _ hate  _ it,” he started. “It just...hurts to look at,” He stiffened a second later, chasing the thoughts out of his processor. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” he inquired, quickly changing the subject. 

Windblade was quick to meet him. “You know more about the past Wing hunting than anyone on this planet--”

“Besides Screamer,” Thundercracker cut in.

Windblade faltered slightly. “Yes,” she agreed, having been thrown off by the sudden comment. “Besides-- Screamer. I’m trying to dig into the trend as it stands today - Put a stop to it like they did back then. I think the key to doing that lies in the past.”

Thundercracker lifted a brow. “So you want my help,” it was almost a question. “Like…” Thundercracker took a moment to think about what was being asked of him. “An investigation? You and me?” the smallest hint of excitement began to dig it’s way into his tone. 

“Uh...yes. Yes, like an investigation.”

Thundercracker appeared to be considering the proposal very seriously. “Oh this is great,” he said mostly to himself. “Imagine what I could do if I was actually part of a  _ real  _ detective team,” that part was quieter. 

The Camien lifted a brow at the earth bound Cybertronians strange behavior. 

The seeker put on a long smile at the thought of it all. “I’ll do it,” he agreed, looking back to his fellow flyer.

Windblade smiled, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she turned as if to leave. “I want to show you some of the things I’ve gathered so far,” she began walking towards the door. Thundercracker followed. “I managed to get the police reports from Ironhide. I’ve been looking through them all day. There’s nothing on Wing Hunting in the archives, like I told you, but I’d like to compare those attacks to the ones we’ve been experiencing. See if there’s any consistencies,” she thought over the statement for a second. “Well, besides the obvious.”  

“I’m not a history buff, you know,” Thundercracker pointed out. “And my experience is limited. Like I said, the Screamer would be a better source than me.”

“Well, I don’t have,” she hesitated before using the nickname. “Screamer. I have you, if you’re willing to help.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” 

They entered into the main interior of Metroplex. It wasn’t that long of a trek from there to the surface. Windblade was booking it to the Spire, desperate to get outside and get to the skies where no one could reach her. As soon as they were above ground she leaped into the air, taking off and heading high above the buildings. The trip to the main tower was not a long one, but some hunters were known to leap into the sky and drag their prey out of the air if they flew too low. Thundercracker followed her, grazing the sky slightly below. “It’s still a mess,” he commented, surveying the city below. 

“It’s getting better,” Windblade countered calmly. “Slowly, but it is.”

They reached the Spire moments later, landing just before the entrance and hurrying inside. Windblade led the blue bot to her office. Upon entering they were greeted with a jungle of photos, datapads, and archive disks. News reel, old datapads with all sorts of red writing now riddling their contents. 

“Wow,” Thundercracker huffed, eyes wide as he surveyed the room. “You’re really committed.” 

Windblade stepped over a fallen pile of datapads to get to her desk, avoiding the obstacles with a practiced precision. “There have been one hundred and seventy two assaults on winged bots within the past half cycle,” she stated, ignoring the comment. “More than half of them had their wings physically torn from their backs,” she picked up a picture but immediately cringed at the sight of it. Looking at the misshapen ragged metal always made her wings tingle in the most unpleasant way. She tried to hand the file to Thundercracker, but he put his hands up, denying the offer. “No thanks. I’m okay going the rest of my life without seeing another torn up frame,”

Windblade immediately pulled back. “Right. I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly, throwing the datapad back on her desk. 

Thundercracker took a hesitant step forward. “So where should we start?”

Windblade fell into her chair, trying to center her mind. She grasped her head, stare centered on the desk. “When those bots ripped of another's wings--” she looked up to Thundercracker. “What did they  _ do  _ with the wings.”

The seeker shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. Some kept them as trophies, others just destroyed them to further demonstrate their self-proclaimed ‘superiority.’”

Windblade sat up further. “What did they do to those who committed the crime?”

“Nothing,” the blue mech came to lean against his partner’s desk. “Like I said, it was legal. They couldn’t - and frankly didn’t want to - prosecute those who committed the crime before it  _ was  _ a crime,” he scoffed. “Fairness, ya know?” 

Windblade wanted to comment but was interrupted by a ping from her comm. She could barely get a word in before Starscream’s unmistakable screech rang through her audio receptor. “I need you in the main hall.  _ Now!”  _ his voice calmed just slightly upon saying. “There’s been an incident.” 

“We-- I’ll be right there.” Windblade stood quickly from her desk and began her descent, taking long, quick strides.  

“What happened?” Thundercracker asked, jogging to meet her pace. 

“I don’t know. But it sounded urgent,”

“Was it Starscream?”

“Yes. That’s what concerns me,” she threw open the door to the stairway before taking off on her thrusters. Thundercracker followed, though did not use his flight capabilities so generously. Windblade called back from ahead of him. “He only calls me when there’s been an incident” 

 

* * *

 

The sight of Airazor sobbing and bleeding on the floor was not one Windblade was prepared for. The anguished screams echoed through the main way. A thick pool of blood gathered on the floor, staining the gold painted metal. The purple mess spilled across the plating of all those around her. Her thrashing only made it worse as main energon lines spit out their contents at every movement. 

Tigatron tried fruitlessly to console her and keep her still for the medics. He knelt before her, arms wrapped tightly around the body as he shed thick tears of his own. Airazor clung to him, sobbing and screaming with pain as Flatline treated the nubs left from where her wings had been stolen from her. She screamed in agony at every touch, throwing her head back from Tigatron’s shoulder when it all became too much. 

Windblade had not realized her mouth had fallen open until she tried to speak. She had to reset her vocalizer a few times before any words would come out. “What-- When…?” they were weak, but they served their purpose. 

“Tigatron carried her in,” Starscream answered quietly, his gaze never wavering from the horrid sight. “They left her bleeding,” his voice grew softer still. “We couldn’t move her any further without risking bleeding out,” he drew in a deep vent. It was shaky, but he tried to keep it level. “Do you see now why we must wipe this disgusting practice from our world? Why it takes priority above all else?” 

Windblade had never seen anything like it. She prayed to Primus that her optics never be subject to such a sight again for as long as she existed. “Yes,” she vented quietly, her eyes locked on the terrifying sight. 

Thundercracker also found his gaze locked on the poor sobbing creature. His lip fell into a hard line as his mind wandered back to millions of years ago. The sight was familiar to him, and it hurt just as much now as it did then. He remembered, more vividly than he’d prefer, Starscream returning home after his encounter with the original “Wing hunters.” Thundercracker could not figure how Starscream managed to get home without bleeding out and offlining. Skywarp and Thundercracker didn’t bother calling a medic, no respectable medic would be found dead treating a seeker in the slums. Instead they’d hailed another bot in their complex who was secretly training to be a medic. He and Skywarp had to hold their trine leader down while the medic treated and cauterized the wound. 

After that Starscream was grounded for nearly three years before they could get him a new body to integrate with.  

The second time the trine leaders wings had been torn off almost seemed worse than the first. Thundercracker and Skywarp had watched, helplessly and horrified, as Megatron took their trine leader’s wings in a harsh grip and  _ slowly  _ tore metal from metal. They watched and listened as fuel lines and sensors snapped apart, the horrifying sound of creaking metal and tearing ligaments filled the room beside their owners anguished screams. When it was over with the proud, angry, sharp tongued seeker was dropped, reduced to a sobbing, terrified creature wading in a puddle of his own blood. Thundercracker and Skywarp were petrified before Megatron stepped over his victim. When the trine rushed to aid him Megatron snapped at them. “Don’t touch him,” he demanded sharply, words that sometimes echoed through Thundercrackers processor still. “Otherwise he will not learn.”

Now, at that point Thundercracker did not like Starscream to any notable degree. But he knew well enough that  _ no one  _ deserved the so called ‘punishment’ Megatron had just inflicted upon his second. “How is your Air Commander supposed  _ command  _ if he can’t even  _ fly!”  _ Thundercracker roared, standing up to the warlord for the first time since they’d joined his twisted cause. Megatron was angry at the outburst, but not out of a lack of understanding, and therefore did not raise a hand to Thundercracker. He simply replied with three words, three infuriating words. “Figure it out.” 

Thundercracker had heard Starscream scream before that. Certainly, Starscream was not always the kindest bot, his words were often laced with poison, and he made sure those outside of earshot knew of his dissatisfaction. 

But those screams. 

The screams Thundercracker heard when wounds were burned shut and wings were torn from the roots. 

Those were screams like no other. Screams Thundercracker would never forget. 

Thundercracker shook the memories away as a scowl set itself deep on his face. “We have to stop this,” he said, mostly to himself, then turning his attention to Windblade, who had managed to turn her head away and keep her gaze resting stiff on the floor over her shoulder. She clenched her fists. “We’ll find them,” it sounded like a promis. “Nothing on this planet is going to stop me from finding them,” the growled, then turning on a heel and stomping back to the stairway. Thundercracker didn’t follow immediately. He took a moment to look at his former trine leader. 

His frame was different, that was no surprise. He was stripped entirely of Decepticon symbols, again, not a surprise. His face was set into a hard glare, eyes locked on the still sobbing frame while he himself was lost in his thoughts. Thundercracker had no doubts that this brought the bot beside him to a darker place. A place no one would care to visit again. It must’ve hurt to see another bot like this. To know some things never change, that the past eventually catches up with the present. 

It certainly hurt Thundercracker. 

His spark ached for the victim. He made a silent promise to find who’d done this to her and bring them to justice. Bring a stop to the deplorable practice.  

“We’ll stop this,” he didn’t mean to say it outloud. “Whatever it takes.” 

The words didn’t quite catch Starscream’s attention. By the time he realized someone had been speaking Thundercracker was already gone. 

Thundercracker found himself in Windblade’s office, hardly remembering the journey. “Whatever you need,” he announced upon entering. “I’m not leaving until this is over.” 

Windblade wanted to smirk, but she couldn’t find it in herself.

  
“Then let’s get to work.”  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, hope you enjoy. Very Starscream filled chapter.

Wings are not brittle things. 

They are sensitive, sure, but a tool used to support an entire body and split through high winds coming from all directions is not often designed to break so easily. 

This little feature is part of the reason why getting them torn off hurt so much. They were never meant to be broken.  _ Ever. _

Starscream stayed with Airazor until she could be sedated and sent to the med-bay. 

“We will find who did this to her,” Starscream promised Tigatron as he held the hand of his lover, sobs still shaking him every few minutes. The tiger could merely nob, unwilling to take his eyes off the still frame of his mate. “Thank you Lord Starscream,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into Airazor’s hand. 

“She will be in stasis for a while. Possible a few orns. You are welcome to stay here with her for as long as you require.”

“I will be here when she wakes up.” Tigatron’s voice barely made it to a whisper.

“When you are ready we need you to fill out a report. Tell us what you saw, if anything.”

Tigatron nodded again. “Of course. Anything. Anything to get these thieves off the street.” 

Starscream’s eyes fell to Airazor’s frame. She was connected to a horde of machines, all trying to keep her stable despite the blood loss. Pain medication pumped through her systems. She was not put into a deep stasis in fear of killing her. Starscream’s lips fell into a hard line. Part of him wanted to be angry about what this would mean for relations between Cybertron and the colonies. Another part of him, however, a larger part of him, could only concentrate on trying to stop these deplorable practices before they killed or grounded every flyer on Cybertron. Whether they be from a colony or not. It did not matter at this point where the winged bots came from. Wings were wings. Pain was pain. It was different, but the same, and that was what Starscream concentrated on. 

“Hale me if there is anything you need,” Starscream instructed quietly before turning on a heel and leaving the med-bay. 

He walked quickly to Wheeljack’s lab on one of the lower levels. 

He found the engineer asleep at his work bench, hunched over a slew of datapads and blueprints. 

“Wheeljack,” Starscream called, approaching the grounder. Wheeljack didn’t respond. 

Starscream sighed, rolling his eyes. He drew a gun from his subspace and took one shot to the ceiling. 

Wheeljack bolted upright, drowsy, but ready to fight. “Who’s-it,” his eased, seeing it was just Starscream. The white bot groaned, rubbing his face. “What’re you  _ doing?”  _ he asked, slightly annoyed at the abrupt sound of gunshots. “Did you-” his attention turned to the ceiling. “Did you just shoot the ceiling? What if there was someone up there!?”

“Then they got shot,” Starscream answered bluntly, putting the gun away. “I want a progress report.” 

Wheeljack released another groan, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to his datapads. “Nothing’s changed since  _ yesterday,  _ Lord Starscream. It’s all the same. Still at a wall, still don’t have anything to work with,” Wheeljack side eyed Starscream for a moment before turning fully to the bot. “Ya know, this process would go a lot faster if I had a live person to look at. One with  _ wings, _ ” Wheeljack’s winglets wiggled at the emphasis. 

“Absolutely not,”Starscream said immediately, knowing exactly what the engineer was getting at. 

“Come on,” Wheeljack wined. “‘Whatever it takes,’ that’s what you said to me, right? Well, what it  _ takes  _ is a bot with wings that I can inspect, scan, and pick around at to get a proper schematic on the table.”

“You are  _ not  _ touching my wings,” Starscream hissed, the items in question ruffling on his back. 

Wheeljack sighed, rubbing his optics. “Alright Screamer,” he let his hand fall to the table. “I’ll see what I can do then. Oh wait, I already have--” He turned back to his work, grumbling as he picked through the data pads. “Got as far as I can and doesn’t quite work, but sure, ‘whatever it takes,’ takes a whole hell of a lot more than what I have,” he flicked the datapad back into the pile, frustrated. 

Starscream’s face twisted as he observed the exhausted grounder. ‘Whatever it takes.” Right. That had been what he said when he gave Wheeljack the assignment. Starscream only saw fit to keep himself at the same standards in this time of need for all flyers.  

“Fine,” Starscream agreed quietly. 

Wheeljack perked. “Really?” he asked, almost excitedly, but mostly surprised. 

“Yes,” Starscream confirmed, trying to hide his hesitance. “I will let you pick at my back, but I expect results,” he said sternly. 

Wheeljack leaped from his seat. “Great. I'm gonna need you to--uh,” he cut himself off as he began to scurry around the lab. He went about collecting tools before stopping at one of his examination tables. The engineer shifted through the mess covering the table for a moment before shrugging and shoving everything off of it. “Just lay down here, I gotta get some stuff.” 

Starscream stiffened with surprise. His wings gave a small flick. “Now?” He inquired. “You-- want to do this now?” He mentally scolded himself for not keeping his tone in check. 

Wheeljack shrugged. “Well, yeah. No better time than the present, right?” 

Starscream’s upright hand balled into a fist. He rubbed his thumb over his index finger, contemplating, and resisting the urge to bite his lips. “Right. No better time,” he tentatively approached the table. “it's not as though I have anything  _ better  _ to do at present.” 

Starscream flicked a bit of scrap metal from the surface before sitting upon the silver examination table. He stayed seated for a long moment before willing himself to lay down on his cockpit. He kept his head propped up on his fist until Wheeljack arrived and demanded he rest his head down. Starscream rolled his eyes but did as he was told. 

The examination was uncomfortable. Everything about it. The feeling of the scanners, the little picking tool taking a turn about his wing joints, Wheeljack's very cold hands moving about the wiring. 

“Ow!” Starscream hissed for what must've been the hundredth time. He lifted his head from his arms to look over his shoulder. “what are you doing back there!?” He demanded, tired of being prodded. Wheeljack promptly put a hand on the back to Starscream's head and shoved it back down. “Head  _ down,”  _ he demanded absently, going back to his scanner. 

Starscream snarled, lifting his head as soon as the hand was removed. “are you done yet?” He snapped. 

“Nearly,” Wheeljack carefully grabbed the edge of one of the wings with his hand, studying it's reaction. He pressed several different areas and requested Starscream make certain movements so he could see how the wings were jointed together and get a good look at all the components. “What do you know about wings?” the scientist asked as he conducted his experiments. 

“I know they don’t like to be touched,” Starscream muttered, lifting his head and propping it up on his fist again. This time Wheeljack didn’t protest. 

“I mean component wise. Fuel lines, wiring, nerve endings, structure, all that. Ya know, stuff I can’t see from the outside.”

“That’s what scanners are for.” 

Wheeljack let out a small annoyed sigh. “You are no help whatsoever.” 

“They’re connected to their own fuel lines,” Starscream started. “It runs right over the edge, right under the surface. It’s a small thing, since they don’t require fuel like an appendage. They’re designed for balance and nothing else. There’s a--” Starscream stopped, sitting up. “Here, let me show it to you,” he looked around for a moment before grabbing a datapad from one of the many piles. He drew a crude outline of a wing and pointed out where the hair thin fuel line was, and where it connected to the main line. “Right at the base,” he pointed out, then shoving the datapad in the grounder’s chest. “that’s why there’s so much blood when they're removed. It's also why they’re so difficult to build properly. No to mention the amount of sensors you’d need to develop, and the weight has to be just right, and not all frames are the same, but the wiring is fairly universal,” he waved a hand about as he explained, as if it were something he'd already explained a thousand times. 

Wheeljack stared at the sketch for a moment, listening carefully to what Starscream was telling him. Wheeljack had done a great deal of research himself, but most of the books and data logs on flight frame anatomy were mediocre at best. They were old, too, which didn’t help. “So if this line it too thick it all goes to the pits,” Wheeljack stated, almost in a question. “And where it attaches to--” he paused, diving back into his thoughts. 

“Where it attaches to the main fuel line requires precise regulation, otherwise it clogs,” Starscream completed the thought, assuming the path Wheeljack was taking. 

“Are the wings lines made of a different material than the other fuel lines?”

Starscream shrugged. “I have no idea. It stretches, though, if that helps,” Starscream leaped off the examination table, finished with being picked at whether Wheeljack was or not. He ruffled his platting for a moment, shaking away the sensation of being touched. His wings rattled behind him, flicking away the discomfort. 

“I hope what you’ve gathered today will be sufficient enough,” the leader stated, a threatening hue slipping into his tone. Starscream would not be happy if he had to endure that and get nothing from it. 

“Uh,” Wheeljack stuttered, mind still centered on the datapad. “Sure,” he answered absently, then coming back to reality. “Yeah. I should have something built by…” he trailed off, trying to think of an acceptable time frame. “Tomorrow,” he landed on, though immediately regretted it. “Hopefully,” he added. 

“I will return tomorrow then. See that you have at least  _ something,  _ Wheeljack,” the tone was not biting despite Starscream’s efforts to make it so. It was borderline pleading, for which Starscream mentally slapped himself. Not very hard, as his mind was too tired to waste effort on scolding. 

“I’ll have something,” Wheeljack assured. “Might not be a nice something, but something.”

“That is all I can ask,” With that Starscream took his leave, heading all the way back up to his office. 

As soon as he arrived he fell back in his chair, the events of the day just beginning to catch up with him. Starscream rubbed his brow as a processor ach began to set itself in. “This is a disaster,” he muttered to himself, then letting his hand fall back on the desk. It landed on a datapad, one that had yet to be looked over. He soon found that it was Tigatron’s report, for some reason delivered to his desk instead of Ironhide’s. 

Starscream sighed. How frustrating. These people don’t even know how to deliver reports any more. 

With a heavy hand Starscream comm’d the chief of defense and requested he come get it, as Starscream was in no mood to leave his office again. Ironhide sighed on the other end of the line. “Why don’t you get someone on the staff to deliver it?” he questioned, also seeming reluctant to leave his office. 

“Because I asked you,” Starscream snapped. “This is  _ your  _ responsibility.”

“You’d have better luck just handin’ it off to Windblade, she’s got all of ‘em right now anyway.”

Starscream’s biting stance seized with confusion. “Windblade?” he questioned. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Our resident Camien has taken the case. Came to my office last night askin’ fer all the reports we received. Don’t know why she’s so interested, but I’ve got more on my table than just a few low life wing thieves. I let her have it. For now.”

“I’ll--” Starscream hesitated. He reset his vocalizer before speaking again, etching the venom back in. “I suppose one with wings is more suited to it than a grounder. The case is hers, but Ironhide,” a sour sweetness slipped into his voice. “Don’t do it again.”

 

* * *

 

Windblade’s head rested atop the horde of datapad’s covering her desk. Her arms sprawled out across the pile, limp in her recharge. She was barely rested in the seat below her, the chair just catching the edge of her behind while her legs stuck straight out under the desk. 

Thundercracker sat in a chair on the corner of the office. His arms crossed over his cockpit as his chin rested atop his chest, head hung in deep recharge. 

One ping.  

Another ping. 

Then a third. 

“Windblade!” 

Starscream's piercing screech shook Windblade from her slumber. She jolted to attention, hand falling immediately to herr comm before she fell promptly to the floor, the seat shifting beneath her when she moved. The cityspeaker let out a yelp as she was unexpectedly acquainted with the floor. 

She rubbed a sore elbow for a moment before turning her attention back to to her comm. “yes, Lord Starscream?” She inquired, rubbing the fatigue from her brow and settling on the floor. 

“I need to see you in my office.” 

“Right away,” she nearly groaned, not really interested in dealing with the ruler of Cybertron at the moment. 

Reluctantly Windblade hauled herself off the floor and shuffled over to Thundercracker. She lazily shook his arm. “Thundercracker,” she mumbled, still tired from staying up all night. The seeker shifted before lifting his head. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked.

Windblade merely nodded. “Starscream called, he wants to see me in his office.”

Thundercracker scoffed as he began to stretch. “Of course he does,” he muttered. “What does the Screamer want this time?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” Windblade replied, making her way to the energon dispenser before heading to the door. “You can come if you want. Or you can stay here. Your choice.”

The seeker puffed out a laugh, pushing himself to his pedes. “I could do for a meeting,” he said, cocking a smirk that was eerily similar to his former trine leader’s, but somehow less maniacal. Thundercracker followed the camien out. He was curious as to what the high life looked like, and how Starscream was taking it. His former wing mate never looked good in positions of power they always looked too big for him. 

Starscream scowled upon Windblade’s arrival, spotting Thundercracker first. The leader of Cybertron stood at the side of his desk, hand resting lightly on the most recent report. “What is  _ he  _ doing here?” he spat, eyes narrowing in the directing of his former wingmate. 

Windblade scowled right back. “He’s visiting,” she stated sternly. “He’s here upon my request. Now what do you need Lord Starscream?”

Starscream ‘humphed’ picking up the datapad. “When did you become so buddy buddy?” he asked, the scowl setting itself deeper on his face.

“More friends than you’ve got, Screamer,” Thundercracker shot back. 

Starscream let out an almost pitiful growl, losing his composure for a moment. “Don’t call me that!” he screeched. Thundercracker smirked to himself for only a second. He could only get so much enjoyment from annoying the Screamer, as it was not very hard to do. It had been a while, though.

“Why am I here?” Windblade asked, wanting to get this meeting over with as soon as possible. Starscream eased. His wings fell away from their hiked up position and his face switched from a scowl to a more neutral expression as his attention turned to the datapad in his hand. “I thought you’d be interested to know that Airazor is in the med-bay. She’s--” he didn’t want to say fine. She wasn’t fine. “Recovering,” he decided, handing the datapad to Windblade. “Ironhide informs me you’ve taken the case,” the tone was almost suspicious, but it held hints of approval.

Windblade looked over the datapad as he spoke. “I can’t say I necessarily approve, considering that is not your job here,” he waved a hand, keeping the other in a fist behind his back. “But considering all of our other options are grounders I can’t say I’m entirely opposed to it.  Just make sure it doesn’t get in the way of your work,” his gaze turned to Thundercracker again, who stood like a rock, arms crossed over his cockpit. “I’m assuming that’s why  _ he’s  _ here.” Starscream said, the scowl returning to his face. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the regulations  _ we all  _ agreed to and put in place regarding space bridge travel.”

“I’ll be sure to fill out a proper report next time,” Windblade muttered, never looking away from the datapd. 

Starscream put a hand on the report and lowered it slightly, pulling Windblade’s attention. “For earth bots you need to fill out a travel request,” he reminded sharply. 

“I  _ know  _ that,” she said, tugging away from the seeker. “But this was an emergency.”

Thundercracker scowled. “Don’t trust us?” he growled. 

Starscream’s gaze snapped to the blue seeker. “Optimus Prime,” he clarified. “And anyone who follows him.”

Thundercracker scoffed. “Well then you don’t have to worry about me, that’s for sure,” he muttered, looking at the floor. He then took a few seconds to look around the office. It was large, but empty for the most part, much like Starscream’s ego. 

“What’s it like, Starscream, getting everything you ever wanted?” Thundercracker questioned. It almost sounded like a challenge.

“Riveting,” Starscream muttered. 

“Finally getting to see how the other half lived?”

Starscream rolled his eyes. “Maybe if that other half ever actually did something instead of lazing around on their afts oppressing others, then yes. I have a very good view from here.” 

Thundercracker sneered. “And you’re just so wonderful aren’t you.”

“ _ Don’t  _ compare me to them,” Starscream snapped. “Don’t you  _ ever _ compare me to them.” 

Thundercracker eased his stance slightly. He Knew better than to think Starscream would ever enact laws and policies anywhere  _ near _ as bad as the ones they lived under. Screamer may have been a bad person, but he wasn’t the worst leader. Not always anyways. 

The two merely stared at eachother for a moment, neither willing to fully back down. Eventually Starscream waved a hand, turning on a heel and heading back to his desk. “I don’t have time for you, I’ve got more important things to worry about,” he sat down in his chair. “Like - oh - running a whole planet.,” he waved a dismissive hand, attention falling to a datapad. “You’re dismissed Windblade.” 

Windblade gave a small nod before turning to take her leave. She walked past Thundercracker and was nearly halfway out the dror when she realized he wasn’t following. “Thundercracker?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. 

“How did you do it?” The blue jet was talking to Starscream. “How did you, of all people, manage to get  _ elected?”  _

Starscream ran a hand over his face, already tired of this conversation. He forced a smirk before answering. “I snatched the opportunity out from underneath a certain  _ bug.”  _

Thundercracker approached the desk. “Yeah, sure, but you.  _ You _ , of all people. The most notorious liar in the galaxy,” he walked until he was standing right before the desk. “I’m curious as to how you managed it with your reputation.”

Starscream glared at his former comrade for a moment. “I had friends in high places.” he answered testily, looking back to the datapad. 

Thundercracker snarled. “Friends like Megatron?”

Starscream slammed the datapad on the desktop, standing sharply from his seat. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ compare Metalhawk to that  _ monster _ !” he roared, red eyes bright with the sudden rage.

Thundercracker was taken back by the genuine reaction. He stared in confusion at his former trine leader. “Metalhawk?” he questioned. Thundercracker had heard the name but he couldn’t quite place it. He squinted a bit, straining his memory. “Isn’t that--” he made a face, unsure and confused. “Isn’t that the guy who lead the neutrals or something?” he finally looked back to Starscream. “Some prick who used to be an Autobot? He died, right?”

Starscream carefully sat down, keeping his gaze on his desk as he slowly picked up the datapad he’d slammed. “Yes,” he answered testily, barely above a whisper. “He. died,” his servos shook as he took the datapad back, though he tried to keep them still. 

Thundercracker scoffed, noticing the behavior. “Well what do you care?” 

Starscream stiffened. He squeezed the datapad so hard his claws pierced the surface, leaving an opening for his fist to crush the metal in his palm. “Get out,” he demanded quietly, trying to keep himself in check. 

Thundercracker scowled. “Don’t pretend like you care-”

“I said  **_get out_ ** !” Starscream screeched, shattering the broken datapad on the table and pointing to the door. 

Thundercracker stood his ground for a moment before easing his stance and turning to the door. He brushed past Windblade who was still slightly shocked by the whole ordeal. After it subsided she hurried to catch up with Thundercracker. “You really know how to press his buttons,” she commented. 

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Thundercracker replied, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Interacting with Starscream always brought so much tension to his system, it was a wonder how any of his trine managed to survive. That much stress coming from one bot was enough to give Starscream and everyone around him a spark attack. 

Thundercracker flung open the stairway door a bit harder than he intended. “I think I figured something out yesterday--” he paused, beginning the descent to Wiindblade’s floor. “Okay, well, actually I  _ remembered  _ something. I was going to tell you, but, well. You - you know. You fell asleep and all.” 

“What did you remember?”

“I remember what they did with the wings.”

 

* * *

 

Starscream kept a hand over his optics. The light in his office was miniscule but still piercing. Stupid thundercracker, stomping in all high and mighty like he wasn’t a Decepticon once. Starscream growled into his palm. “Stupid Thundercracker with his dumb assumption and all his stupid accusations. Stupid stupid stupid,” he put on a mocking voice, imitating Thundercracker. “Oh you don’t have to worry about that then, blah blah blah, I don’t like Optimus Prime, I have a dog now. Pah!” he flicked a hand. “Organic loving soft spark,” he spat under his breath. “What a fool. He realizes that dog is going to die someday, I hope he knows that. How long do they live? fifty years or something?” Starscream stood from his seat and made his way to the window. “I might almost consider feeling bad for him.” he put a finger to his chin. “Someone should tell him,” he muttered, then waving it off. 

He stood staring out the window for a while, lost deep in his thoughts, trying hard to resist his mind’s insistence to go back to the days before the war. The days when he and his trine mates lived in fear. Days when he had to sit in their apartment grounded and dead. Useless. 

Starscream attempted to shake the thoughts away but they plagued him nonetheless. The unmistakable feeling of Megatron’s massive hands graced his wings. Starscream shuttered, trying to swat them away with a stiff flick. The ghosts of wings past flicked them away for him, but they returned only seconds later. Starscream cringed. His wings flattened against his back and hiked up into a defensive position. “He’s gone,” he whispered to himself. 

But the memories remained. 

Starscream shuttered again, the pain bolting through his mind as a new set of hands paved through the others. An older set. A less familiar set. 

Starscream threw his processor into his hands. “No,” he begged his mind. “ _ Stop _ ,” he demanded through gritted dentia. The night flashed through his processor, everything he could remember of it coming up from deep within the pits of his mind. The thief reared his ugly face again, the disgusting warmth of his filthy hands gripped the base of Starscream’s wings. A knee pressed into Starscream’s lower back, while his head was held down into the waste of the slum alleyway. 

“You don’t deserve these,” a gruff voice whispered. 

Then he began to tear...

“ **_NO!_ ** ” Starscream roared. He drew back before slamming his head as hard as he possibly could into the window before him. The impact cut out his vision for a moment. He stumbled back before falling forward against the window and sliding to the floor. “Never again,” he whispered. “I will never let them take my wings again.”

Starscream waited for his vision to return before moving. He shifted so that he was sitting against the window, arm propped up on one knee. “Never again,” he repeated quietly. “Never will I give those fraggers the satisfaction,” then an idea popped into his mind. 

It was a crazy idea. 

But it was worth it. 

He put a finger to his comm. 

“Wheeljack,” he greeted when the engineer answered. 

  
“I need a favor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any glaring mistakes, I only read it over once. Next chapter the hunt begins!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry these chapters are so short, next one should be longer though.

“What are we doing here?” Asked Windbalde, looking down the desolate city as they flew over. 

“If we’re going to find anything we’re going to find it here,” Thundercracker explained vaguely. 

“But what are we looking for?”

Thundercracker began to descend, ignoring the question until he transformed. “We’re searching for thieves,” he landed lightly on his pedes, Windblade not far behind. “Or, at least, remnants of thieves past,” He turned to Windblade and spread her arms out. “What do you see?”

The Cityspeaker took a moment to take in her surroundings. Above her were once towering structures that were now split in half, the rubble of their height buried in the wastes and powdered rust. “I see,” she started slowly. “The remnants of a once great city.” 

“A once great city where Wing Hunter’s thrived,” Thundercracker confirmed quietly. “Vos was hit hard. It was one of the first places hit actually, during the war,” he spread his arms out again. “You’re standing in the first strike.” 

Windblade’s mind jolted to attention. She looked down at her feet, which were standing in a heap of rubble. Then she looked up, only to find that those once towering buildings were not towering at all any more. Instead she was below them, in a crater big enough to fit a Titan. Or more. 

“What--”

“War happened,” Thundercracker answered quickly. “This is what war does. Unnecessary or otherwise,” he gestured the ground. “This, the rubble we’re standing in, this used to be where they put the wings.”

Windblade seemed to have a hard time wrapping her head around it, still recovering from the shock of something so massively violent resting right below her pedes. “What--” she managed to spit out. “What are you saying?”

“This spot was Vos Central. Square. Whatever you want to call it. The government buildings, housing, shops, markets, people. They all gathered _ here _ . So  _ this _ was where they put the wings. They displayed them on buildings and in frames, like the head of a beast. It was a show of  _ power _ , and  _ intimidation _ . It managed to kick most Cold Constructs to Kaon or Iacon...Mostly Kaon, though.”

“Where Starscream is from.”

“No, Starscream is from Vos. He was just  _ forced _ to Kaon. Only after a whole hell of a lot of intimidation, though.” 

Windblade looked around before turning her attention back to Thundercracker. “Why did we have to come all the way out here for this?” she inquired. 

Thundercracker smirked. “Dramatic effect.”

Windblade stared blankly at the seeker. 

His smirk faltered. “It was a joke,” he clarified. “I was joking. Do you Camiens do jokes?”

“There isn’t much to joke about on a dying planet.”

“Okay, harsh. But besides the point,” Thundercracker waved the topic away. “I brought you here so you could see what scrap like this can do to a people. And that what we’re dealing with is entirely different. What we’re dealing with isn’t going to cause this. They’re not on display, they’re not proud hunters in the eye of the public, they’re dirty dealers. That  _ it.  _ We’re dealing with  _ grounders.  _ These people were dealing with flight frames.”

“Okay,” Windblade said carefully. “But how does that help us?”

“If we know what it  _ isn’t,  _ then we inch closer to what it  _ is.  _ Our suspects are grounders. I came here thinking this was a similar case as before, but I was  _ wrong.  _ I don’t know how grounder’s work. I don’t know how they think. I don’t know they’re history. All I know is that we need a Kingpin, and a hunter, and we’ll have all the information we need.” 

Windblade set her gaze on the ground. She needed to think. It had always been assumed that the mechs doing this were grounders, but after what Thundercracker had told her it made sense for at least some of the hunters to be winged bot’s. The thought disgusted her. Fellow flight frames dismantling their own kind. Knowing full well just how much it hurt, just how traumatizing it was. 

“We need to start at the end,” Thundercracker said, interrupting her thoughts. “And work our way back to who started it.”

Windblade managed to turn her gaze back to the blue seeker. “Where should we start?” 

“We start with the lowest of the low. We start with the hunter.”

“But how are we going to find one?”

“We give him something to hunt.”

 

* * *

 

Starscream could see the hand waving in front of his face, but his mind didn’t quite register. 

“You awake, Star?” That was Wheeljack. Starscream recognized that. The engineer snapped his fingers in Starscream’s audio receptors. “Come on, wake up,” he urged. “I need you outta my lab before somebody walks in and gets suspicious.” 

With a groan Starscream managed to open activate his optics all the way. “How long did it take?” he asked, sitting up slightly. 

“About four hours, give or take.”

“And it’s all set?”

“As it can be.”

“Did you get everything you needed?”

“And more,”

Starscream scoffed. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. I expect a working prototype by morning,” he hopped off the berth and made his way to the exit. 

“Give me two days, and maybe you’ll get one,” Wheeljack countered. 

Starscream huffed. “And you call yourself a genius.” he waved a dismissive hand. “But fine. Do as you must. I’m going to the med-bay.”

“Your wings are fine, Screamer, I double triple checked.”

Starscream’s wings gave a little flap as he looked over his shoulder. “I’m not going for them. I trust you,” he began his descent once again. “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate business there.” 

 

* * *

 

Windblade had never seen Starscream-- 

Well to put it simply, she’d never seen him  _ care  _ about anything. Or anyone, for that matter. Besides maybe Wheeljack. 

In any case, to see the cold sparked ruler of Cybertron speak so softly to a victim of this horrid wing hunting just seemed so...off. To see him rest a light hand on hers in a reassuring gesture, and to tell her and her mate that if there was anything they needed to not hesitate to ask. It was odd, and out of character, and Windblade wasn’t entirely sure what to think. The only thing she could think about was just how strange it was. 

“He doesn’t care about much,” Thundercracker’s voice jolted her from her concentration. “But he cares about this. Once it’s over he’ll go back to his sparkless self, don’t worry.” 

Windblade could only nod. She gave the room one last glance before looking back to the blue seeker. “Did you talk to Ironhide?”

“Yep. Getting an interrogation room set up now.”

“I hope we’re not wasting his time.” 

“You are just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

Windblade half scowled. “That’s not really what we need right now,” she countered. 

Thundercracker rolled his eyes. “Keep talking like that and you’ll end up like Starscream.” 

The seeker’s voice broke through their conversation. “What about Starscream?” the leader in question spat, closing the door to Airazor’s room. “You’ve been lingering out here for nearly a megacycle, Windblade, what do you want?” 

Windblade stood to attention. “Just permission to continue our investigation. Outside of preset investigative regulations.”

Starscream lifted a brow. “You and the flying headache want to wing it,” he almost asked. “A-- private investigation of sorts.”

Windblade nodded. “Exactly. Non-affiliated with you.”

“Yet you seek to continue to use my resources,” he drawled. The seeker waved a hand. “Whatever. Do what you must. But keep it quiet. You’re no longer under my jurisdiction,” he brushed past the two on his way out of the med bay. He paused, and turned back to the pair. “Just be sure to not to cause any unnecessary  _ panic  _ or  _ uproar.  _ I’ve seen enough of that.” he turned to leave again, but didn’t move. “And Windblade,” he half looked over his shoulder. “Bring a stop to it.” 

“We’ll to everything we can.” She assured calmly. 

Starscream gave a stiff nod, then he was gone. 

  
After a short moment Thundercracker looked to his shorter college. “So,” he started, “Who wants to be the bait?”


	6. Chapter 6

It was a simple plan. Wander around “alone”, manage to trap yourself in the unfortunate circumstance of being in a dark alleyway alone, look frail, the works. Everything bots like hunters targeted. 

Thundercracker wasn’t the best at looking “frail” though. He had the same habit as Starscream of standing with confidence whether the situation called for it. The only difference was that Thundercracker was actually confident. 

Windblade was tired of hopping across roof tops by the tenth alleyway Thundercracker unfortunately found himself in. 

“Maybe they’re tactics have changed,” Thundercracker proposed. “I mean, Airazor’s report stated that she was attacked almost just outside the spire. That’s pretty gutsy in a Starscream state.” 

“True,” Windblade agreed slowly. “Let’s take a few more turns about the city. Then we’ll see.”

“Maybe we should have brought a grounder with us,”

Windblade furrowed a brow. “Why?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and assume no flyer’s about to travel alone in these conditions. Unless a hunter is stupid, I doubt he’d go after me.”

Something sharp suddenly pierced Thundercracker’s spinal strut. He fell stiff, silence taking over the line. “Windblade,” he struggled. “I think we found our idiot,” he managed before his knees gave out beneath him. His face met the ground. 

He was frozen. 

A heavy pede pushed him further into the ground. “Wow,” a voice vented. “A seeker! Oh, you are going to get me some big bucks buddy,” another amazed huff. “I can’t believe my luck.”

Then a familiar voice. “Might wanna rethink that last one.” 

Windblade slipped her blade under the hunter’s chin. “Back away,” she demanded. “Slowly.” 

The hunter began to back off of his prize. 

“That’s it,” WIndblade eased, never moving her blade from his neck. 

Then the hunter moved. He tried to stab something into Windblade’s side. She grabbed his wrist as he turned to face her. Poor bot was met with a blade to the shoulder, slicing a long line at the seam, almost cutting all the way through.. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees before the camien. A sword met the tip of his nose. “Okay!” he pleaded. “I-I’ll cooperate. Just please! Don’t- Don’t cut off my other arm!” 

Windblade sneered at the mech. Of course he was asking for mercy. He was a simple frame, brown and silver paint job. No mouth, just a face mask. He seemed inexperienced, too cocky, and nervous.

“I think he’s new at this,” Thundercracker mumbled from his position still on the ground. “Yer-- yer gonna have to give me a few klicks Windblade. I think I might be incapacitated at the moment,” he grunted, trying to move his arm out from underneath his chest.

“Don’t worry, Thundercracker, we’re not going anywhere.” Windblade assured sternly, never taking her eyes off the bot at the end of her sword. He was scared. Good. He should be. 

The Pits have no wrath like a ticked off City Speaker. 

“What poison did you use on him?” Windblade inquired, intending to create a tolerance drug to inject into other flyers. 

“Not sure,” the bot answered quickly. “It-- it was given to me by my employer.”  

“Who’s your employer?”

Thundercracker grunted, gaining everyone’s attention. “Yes, hey, hello,” he struggled to get out of his vocalizer, which was still glitching and freezing up as a result of a drugging. “Lets save the questions for the interrogation room. Right now I would--” he paused for another grunt. “I would appreciate it if you’d call for backup. Lucky here might have friends around.”

Windblade shot her prisoner a hard glare. The bot quickly shook his head. “I-I don’t have anyone I swear.” 

With a careful hand Windblade reached for her comm and put in a call for Ironhide. She received a busy message. She then tried for Wheeljack. He sent her to voice message immediately. After Starscream she went for the last person she could think of, who, thank Primus, picked up, and agreed to stop by with a pair of stasis cuffs. 

Luckily for all of them he just happened to be the speediest bot Windblade could have called. 

“Huh. I hope you know how strange it is to get a call from you in the middle of the night telling me that you need a pair of stasis cuffs and someone to help you haul away a prisoner. Luckily for you I’m not one to question, so here ya go, and-” after very quickly strapping the stasis cuffs onto the hunter Blurr rushed to Thundercracker. “And here  _ you _ go,” he said, slipping Thundercracker’s arm over his shoulder and helping the downed seeker to stand. “I can help you two back to wherever you need to go, but after that I’m off.”

“Thanks Blurr, I appreciate it,” Windblade said, hauling her captive off the ground and dragging him out of the alley by an arm. 

By the time they reached their destination Thundercracker was almost fit to walk on his own. Moving around seemed to help the drug to dissipate, much to Windblade’s concern. “No offense, Thundercracker, but I was hoping it wouldn’t filter out of your systems this quickly. I wanted Flatline to take an energon sample, see if we can’t figure out exactly what it is out hunter here used on you.”

“Just confiscate his...whatever it is he used on me,” Thundercracker suggested as they entered the building. He leaned off Blurr. “I think I got it from here. Thanks.” 

“You sure?”

Thundercracker took a moment to steady himself and make sure he could manage standing on his own two feet before giving Blurr the ‘okay.’ When he was no longer needed Blurr wished the pair good luck then rushed off, faster than any optics could catch. “He sure is fast,” Thundercracker commented, taking careful steps towards his partner. “What’s his name again? Blue, or something?”

“His name is Blurr, and yes, he is very fast. You should stop by his bar sometime before you leave.”

Thundercracker huffed. “Primus knows I could do for a drink,” he grumbled, following Windblade and the still shaken prisoner to the interrogation room. 

As soon as they entered the gray room, the entire atmosphere surrounding the investigative team changed. Thundercracker put on the cold calculating demeanor he often took with the Decepticons, and Windblade was like a flame daring her victim to touch. 

She practically shoved the hunter into his seat. “Stay awhile,” she insisted. “We’ve got a few questions for you,” she said, sitting down in the seat across from him. Thundercracker hung back behind the bot. 

“Look I don’t know anything,” the hunter spit out quickly. “I just started this gig a few months ago. I’ve barely captured any wings. Everything I do goes through a handler, only the elite guys get to work directly with the dealer.”

Thundercracker let out a stiff hum, tempting a smirk. “Well at least he’s talkative,” he commented. “Care to give us a location and a time? I’m sure your handler is waiting for you.”

“When’s the next time you were supposed to meet this ‘handler’ of yours?” Windblade restated the question. 

“T-tonight. Ah Frag, I’m gonna miss my deadline! If I don’t get three pairs in by tonight I’ll lose my ticket. You fraggers are putting my income in the tanks!” the hunter dared a bit of hostility towards his captors. 

Windblade lifted a brow. “Should have thought of that before you made your brilliant career choice,” she said bluntly. “Now answer the question.”

The hunter sat stiff and pleading for a second before easing. “Decepticon district, third quarter, right outside a dive, some lousy place, Crank’s, or some slag, I think it’s called.”

Thundercracker spoke before Windblade could. “Your handler recruited you didn’t he?”

The bot looked back at the intimidating figure looming behind him. “Yeah that’s right,” he turned back to Windblade. “I’d seen it around, didn’t think much of the operation until I started hauling in the shanix. I’m supposed to hand in a stack of two sets every week, otherwise I’m outta the game.”

“How do you make it to the big leagues, new-be?” Thundercracker inquired, leaning over the bots shoulder and placing a hand on the table. He was crowding the bot. The hunter eyed him. “Ten sets. One night. That’s what I’ve been told.” 

“Sounds like a big job.”

“I’ve been told people have managed.”

“Managed to ruin ten bots live in one night, now that’s quite a feat.”

The hunter made a face. It was something between disgust and annoyance. “They’re just wings,” he commented. “It’s like losing an arm.”

Thundercracker slammed fist on the table. “Tell that to the bots killing themselves in their apartments because they can’t go out and fly!”

Windblade was surprised by Thundercracker’s sudden intensity. The hunter flinched back as Thundercracker got right in his face. “Tell that to them,” he growled again, then moving away. His smooth demeanor was back a second later. “I’m sure Lord Starscream has some interesting plans for those convicted of Wing hunting, which, might I remind you, is  _ extremely _ illegal,” Thundercracker walked behind the bot and came around the edge of the table where he proceeded to half sit half lean. He crossed his arms. “Though I’m sure our ruler will be more than willing to lighten your sentence if you’d be willing to cooperate.” 

The hunter seemed to be contemplating. His gaze shifted around spots on the table as his fingers fiddled in the cuffs. Eventually he looked up at his captors. 

“What do I have to do?”

 

* * *

 

Starscream stared at it for longer than Wheeljack was comfortable with. The seeker had on that face which was trying to look stoic, but really just looked angry. The engineer dropped the tarp and stared at Cybertron’s leader. He looked between him and the object of his attention. 

Starscream hummed. He circled Wheeljack’s hard work. He quirked a brow, which grabbed Wheeljack’s attention. “What?” he questioned, coming to stand beside the bot. “Problem?”

“No,” Starscream answered slowly as if he wasn’t sure. “Or. Maybe,” he took another moment to look them over. “They  _ look  _ fine. Shape is acceptable. The size the appropriate,” he put a hand to the smooth metal. “May I hold one?”

“Sure,” Wheeljack unhinged one of the prototypes from it’s holder and handed it to Starscream. As soon as it reached the seeker’s hands he spoke. “Too light,” he said immediately, weighing the wing in his hands. “What’s it made of?”

“An Alloy of Sentio Metalico and Tungsten.”

Starscream hummed again. “I like it, but add a little weight, will you? The weight distribution will just throw the receiver off.”

Wheeljack gently took the wing from his leader’s servos. “I’ll get right to it,” he said, then placing the wing back on it’s hanger. He turned back to Starscream. “How are your wing’s feeling?” he asked, eyeing the appendage in question. “Any pinching or burning?”

“None,” Starscream answered satisfactorily, giving his wings a little flap. “You did a fabulous job.”

“As I always do.” 

Starscream smirk. “Oh right, tell that to the scorch marks on the wall.” 

“Trial and error, Lord Starscream.”

“I hope none of these exploded.”

“No no, don’t worry.”

“How did you manage the sensors?”

“I haven’t got as many in there as I should. That’s still a work in progress. I don’t really have a way to tell whether or not they’re right or not.”

Starscream turned his head about the lab for a moment. “Do you have any sensory replicators around here?”

Wheeljack blanked for a moment. “Uhh,” he droned. “I..am not sure. I’ll check,” Wheeljack went about his lab digging through bins and drawers. “Oo!” he called, pulling out a set of sensory replicators. “I do have some,” the he paused, and looked to Starscream. “Wait a klick, why?” 

Starscream approached the engineer. “I can tell you whether or not there’s enough sensors in the wings”

“I don’t think that works with your wings.”

“I’ll dull my sensors,” he snatched the replicators from Wheeljack’s hands and made his way over to the artificial wings. He connected one end at the hilt and handed the other end to Wheeljack as he approached. Wheeljack just looked at the for a moment. “You sure about this Starscream?”

Starscream answered by turning and presenting his spinal stut with a droop of the wings. “Proceed,” he insisted. “I haven’t got all day.” 

Carefully Wheeljack attached the sensors at the base of Starscream’s wings. “You ready?” he asked, finger on the regulator. Starscream merely nodded. Wheeljack activated the sensors. He set them to meet regular nerve output. 

“Alright, I’m gonna touch the wing,” Wheeljack warned, his hand hovering over the smooth surface of the prototype. As soon as Starscream gave the nod Wheeljack put his hand to the plate. Starscream flinched, but didn’t shutter. “They’re close,” he said. “But I’d say a twenty-five percent increase would serve you.” 

Wheeljack shut down the sensors and removed them with a “Thanks.” 

“It’s my pleasure. Anything to help your progress,” Starscream wanted to say more but he was interrupted by a ping. “Hold on a moment, I’m being hailed-- What is it Windblade?” 

 

* * *

 

Windblade walked down the hallway beside her partner. Her face was a set in a contemplative, worried position. She wasn’t sure how completely on board she was this this plan Thundercracker had cooked up. They hadn’t talked much about a plan after they captured a hunter, so she couldn’t be too annoyed about it. She was more worried than anything. 

“Thundercracker, can you tell me how you think you’ll manage ten sets of wings in a night? Or better yet how you think your going to trick this buyer into thinking you  _ aren’t _ a winged bot looking to shut down the operation?”

“We’ll wear disguises,” Thundercracker answered simply. “As for the wings, I would be hard pressed to believe Starscream doesn’t have a scheme brewing to create fake ones.”

Windblade quirked a brow. “You...that’s very assumptive of you.”

Thundercracker looked to the smaller bot. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“That you are,” Windblade put a finger to her comm. She hailed Starscream and this time he answered. “Starscream,” she greeted. “Nice of you to pick up.”

“What do you want, Windblade, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Do you know whether or not Wheeljack has completed his prototype for the wings"

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Why?” he asked suspiciously. 

“We may-- need some for our investigation.”

There was silence on the other end. 

“What could you possibly want with artificial wings? You’re not planning to do anything stupid, are you?”

Windblade glanced at Thundercracker. “We think we’ve found an operation, but to get in we need to prove our worth.”

“And you think using Wheeljack’s wings are going to help you,” Starscream droned. Windblade heard him sigh. “How many do you need?”

“...ten.”

“ _ Ten!?  _ You have to be joking, I can’t just hand over ten artificial wings, those are going to bots who need them!”

“You’ll get them back,”

“If you and the the flying head ache don’t muck everything up,” another pause and another sigh. “But fine,” his voice was quieter now. “He’ll have ten sets for you in--” he paused. Windblade assumed he was thinking over how long it took Wheeljack to make the first set. “Two days. Give or take a few hours.”

Windblade almost smiled. “Thank you, we’ll put them to good use.” 

Starscream huffed. “Make sure you do.” 

Windblade cut the line. She looked to Thundercracker. “We’re in with the wings. Now you’re going to have to convince me that we can disguise ourselves.”

“We’ll find a way.”

“Find a way isn’t good enough, Thundercracker. Can you imagine being found out as a winged bot in that kind of place? They’d be on us in seconds, and  _ no one _ is coming to save us then.”

Thundercracker twisted a lip. “We could always...bind our wings.”

Windblade cringed. Thundercracker was quick to elaborate. “Not  _ tightly _ or anything. Loosely so they hold to our back. Then we can put a temporary plate over them. Or we could try our hand at a big grounder holo-avatar, but that would probably take up too much energy,” Thundercracker paused, eyeing a pair of badgeless as they passed. “Who are those guys?” he asked, pointing to the bots. 

“The badgeless,” Windblade held back a sneer. “They’re Starscream’s private police force.”

Thundercracker scoffed. “Of course they are,” he muttered. “What is that they’re wearing?”

Windblade shrugged. “Some-- holo-armor I guess. It makes them all look the same.”

“Yeah...I noticed that.” Thundercracker mumbled, his thoughts in another place. After a moment he looked back to Windblade. “Why don’t we use those?”

Windblade gave her partner a quizzical look. “Starscream’s private police force showing up on a wing dealers doorstep? I’m sure  _ that _ will work out,” she said sarcastically. 

Thundercracker gave her something reminiscent of a scowl. “You’ve been spending  _ way _ too much time with Screamer,” he commented before getting back on topic. “I was thinking it was a start. We can get your science friend to modify them. What’s his name? Jackie, or something?"

“Wheeljack, and he’s busy.” Windblade sighed. She put the ball of her hand to her head, trying to push away an incoming processor ache. “Maybe we just shouldn’t do this. What are we even doing anyways? This is police work, we’re civilians,” she pointed to herself. “I’m a delegate. This isn’t even my job.”

Thundercracker looked down at her. “You’re also a winged bot. But if you haven’t noticed, this goes beyond Cybertron. You saw Airazor, she’s not from Cybertron. This operation doesn’t care where you’re from, so long as you have wings. As soon as a bot from Caminus gets theirs cut off it  _ will  _ be your job. Better to stop an infection before it spreads.”

“But this is  _ police work _ ! Going undercover, interrogating prisoners. This is too dangerous for us.”

Thundercracker scowled staring straight ahead. “So I’ve wasted a trip,” he stated, the looking at her again. “I thought you wanted to stop this.”

“I  _ do, _ ” Windblade said sternly. “But some things are just too dangerous for us.” 

“Then why not get someone else in on it?”

This surprised Windblade. “What do you mean?”

Thundercracker shrugged. “I mean bring in a grounder.”

Windblade thought over the proposal. “I don’t think there’s anyone I know that  _ everyone else  _ in the city doesn’t at least know by reputation."

“But do they know they know us?”

“I...guess, probably not.”

“Well then there you go.”

“Who would we even get to do it?”

“What about that Blue friend of yours, Blurr? And, for back up, he can bring…” Thundercracker tried to think of all the names he knew. It wasn’t many. “Wheeljack,” was the only name he was sure of. 

Windblade seemed to consider the option. “I don’t know,” she said uneasily, still letting the thought incubate. “They’d have to agree to it.” 

“I’m sure they’d help a friend. Plus it’s not like it’s  _ dangerous _ for _ them _ .” 

“Being surrounded by criminals and getting discovered as a double agent can spell trouble for  _ anyone. _ ”

“Still won’t get their wings ripped off. Besides, it’ not like we’ll  _ really _ let them go alone. There’ll be a voice in their ear every step of the way.”

“A voice isn’t enough.”

“Says the City Speaker,” Thundercracker smirked. 

Windblade rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “We can ask Wheeljack and Blurr if they’d be willing to help, but if they aren’t we’re going to have to come up with another brilliant plan.”

 

* * *

 

“Absolutely not.”

That was Starscream speaking for Wheeljack. 

Windblade scowled. “I think it would be fair to let Wheeljack speak for himself.”

“He’s on the clock, City Speaker, just like you. He needs to be here.”

Thundercracker rolled his eyes. “Oh come  _ on.  _ You can’t let him out for  _ one night? _ ”

“And let him be “recruited” by those filthy wing hunters? I think not.”

“Look, we need him for an hour tonight, and a few hours two days from now. After that he’s free to go.”

“And risk my top scientist getting shot in the head? I think not.”

Wheeljack muttered from his work bench. “Been there, done that. Do  _ not  _ wanna go back,” he leaped off his stool and walked over to the fuming three. “But I’ll do it. I got enough acting skills to complete the mission.”

“You are  _ not  _ going undercover,” Starscream demanded. 

“Aw,” Wheeljack started flatly. “What, Screamer? Worried about me?” he asked, mocking the seeker. 

“Pfft, hardly,” Starscream tapped a knuckle against his scientist head. “I’m worried about that brilliant head of yours.” 

“I’ll admit it’s my most redeemable feature,” Wheeljack looked to Windblade and Thundercracker. “But I’ll do it. ‘Far as I can tell it’s technically my decision.” 

Starscream let out a small growl. “ _ Fine,”  _ he spat. “You can do whatever you want I suppose. Just don’t die. If you die I will personally draw you from the Well and kill you.”

Wheeljack put a hand to his chest and looked to Windblade and Thundercracker. “That’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to me.”

Windblade smiled at the teasing. Starscream rolled his eyes. 

A moment later they were interrupted by a blue flash of light rushing into the lab. “Two times in one night, huh?” Blurr smirked, now standing before the four. “When do we start?”

“In a few hours,” She answered. “We just need to get the prisoner.” she couldn’t help but smirk. 

  
“Then the hunt begins.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter feels like it goes a bit fast, but I hope you all like it anyways.

It was a bad plan. 

Or at least Starscream thought so. Especially considering the two bots Windblade and Thundercracker had so brilliantly chosen to complete it for them. One of the most famous racers to ever live, and one of the most notoriously explosive geniuses to ever be forged.    


_ Great.  _

_ No one _ would recognize them. No one with optics and audio receptors. Starscream made sure to let them all know that before they left on their mission which was “doomed to fail” as he put it, and have them all end up wingless. Thundercracker and Windblade opted to merely roll their eyes at the pessimistic ruler and be on their way. 

They retrieved the hunter from his cell before going off. 

Windblade and Thundercracker set themselves up on a building not too far from the rendezvous point between the hunter and his handler. Before sending him off to meet the bot Wheeljack was sure to implant an explosive chip in the poor guys leg, so if he talked they could blow his leg to shrattenal. It wouldn’t kill him, it would just hurt.  _ A lot. _ Wheeljack called it insurance. Blurr called it cruel, and Windblade called it necessary. Thundercracker had no comment. 

“Ready?” Windblade asked, turning on her comm and getting a good view of their targets from the top of the building. She and Thundercracker laid low, laying down on their cockpits and just peaking over the edge to get a good enough view. 

“As we’ll ever be,” Blurr cracked back. “Pipet’s moving in first.”

“...Pipet?”

“Yeah, that’s this guys name. The hunter...don’t you guys learn names any more?”

Thundercracker scoffed. “Nof of guys like that.” 

The conversation was cut short by Windblade activating radio silence. 

Then all that was left to do was watch, and wait. 

Pipet approached the rendezvous point. He tried to keep him frame from shaking but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He held his hands together, trying to hold them still. He waited for the handler to arrive. 

“I don’t see any wings.”

The sudden voice made the hunter jump. “Oh, no. I-I lost my catch today. But-”

“Is that why you’re so roughed up?”

“Uh…” his voice was too shaky. “Yeah yeah. They jumped me, ya see. A pair of flyers, and--”

Wheeljack’s finger pressed lightly over his trigger, waiting for the bot to spill it. 

“An’ these two guys came out to help me,”

The grip eased. 

The handler, a larger frame, probably some kind of tank, lifted a brow. “Two mechs, huh?”

“Yeah. See, I was on my knees and these two guy, outta nowhere I swear, just up’n charged on these guys. Got one by the wings, tore him a new one.”

“Let me guess, they want in don’t they?”

“Well...you’re still lookin’ for hunter’s right?”

“That’s right,” the handler sighed. “But I got enough under my belt already, especially with you new-guy. Third time this month you’ve lost your catch,” the handler’s red gaze suddenly turned cold. “I’m not gonna have to cut you out, am I?” 

Pipet stepped back, putting his hands up in defense. “No no! These guys. These guys I got you, ya wouldn’t believe ‘em. They’ll make up for every hunt I’ve missed, I swear. I can do better!”

“If they’re gonna be makin’ up for every hunt you’ve missed then what’s the reason I keep you around at all?” 

The smaller bot continued to shake. He was desperately looking for an answer. “I can…” his voice shook. “Oh! I Got you these guy, eh?” he suddenly calmed, hoping his idea was worth something. “These guy’s are top notch hunting material, I swear. That’s gotta make me useful, at least...for a bit.”

The handler hummed with consideration. “Alright,” he finally agreed. “But if these bozos don’t work out it’ll be  _ your _ head.” 

“Y-yes boss. I-- should I comm ‘em now?”

The handler waved a hand. “Go right ahead,” he said dismissively, barely granting his hunter any more attention. 

Pipet comm’d the guys waiting on the background. “Yeah, uh…” he didn’t want to use anyone’s real name. Of course he wasn’t really the creative type though. “You guys can move in whenever you want.” 

The handler scoffed. “What? Already told ‘em they got the job?”

“Not exactly,” Pipet said sheepishly, taking another step back from the much larger mech. 

Blurr was the first one there. He was sure to make a small scene while at the same time keeping it on the down low. How he managed that no one could tell. He even used his real name, which Windblade and Wheeljack both face palmed at. 

“Don’t worry so much,” Thundercracker whispered to his partner. “I doubt Blurr would do something like that if he didn’t think it was in his best interest.”

“Blurr,” the handler let the name roll over his glossia. “Yeah,” he drawled, pulling the memory up from the banks. “You’re that guy right? That guy who won that race on Velocitron! The big one, what was it?”

“The Benefit 500, brought our worlds together, quite a show, nice to strut my stuff again.”

The handler lifted a brow. Then narrowed his eyes. “Last I checked, Blue, you were runnin’ a bar.”

Blurr shrugged, his smirk never wavering. “Look, buddy, after being a big racer then fighting a war for millions of years you get to missing that level of excitement. I’m in this for the thrill, maybe make a few extra shanix along the way,” Blurr leaned forward, rubbing his fingers together. “So am I in or am I in?” he asked. “I don’t have all night.”

The handler pretended to put some consideration into it. “Ey, I guess,” he looked past the racer to Wheeljack who had been standing more on the sidelines. Making himself look more casual, less showy than the former racer. 

“Who’s the other guy?” his attention turned back to Blurr. “Conjux?” 

Blurr chuckled. “Oh no, no. Doesn’t go that deep. Just a buddy of mine, Wheeljack, wanted a piece of the action,” they both turned their attention to Wheeljack who stood like a stone in the alleyway. Blurr smirked at his partner in crime before looking back to the handler. “Not a big talker. More a thinking one, stuck in his head. We make a good team, ya see. I have the speed he’s got the brains.”

“Nice,” the hander said, clearly impressed with his new hunter’s credentials. “Alright Blue,”

“Blurr,”

“Blue when you’re on the job.”

“Heh. Ey ey sir.” he nudged the tank bot. “So, uh, how does one-” he glanced at Wheeljack. “Or two. Get up with the big bots in this business?”

The handler huffed a laugh. “Slow your roles, Blue, it’s more than _ you _ can handle.”

Wheeljack piped up. “Try us,” he challenged. 

The handler smirked. “Alright big bots, if you think you’re that good. Ten sets of wings.  _ Each.”  _

Windblade was taken aback. That was not part of the plan. “ _ Each _ ? They want ten  _ each?”  _ she whispered to her partner. “That wasn’t--”

“That was when we were playing their game with  _ one _ bot. Now we’ve created a team. We’ve upped the stakes for ourselves.” 

Windblade’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “We’re stretching our resources too thin. Starscream will never let us use that many wings.”

“Never would be a long time for someone who wants this filthy practice of their planet as soon as possible.” 

“We can’t work Wheeljack like that. It’s too much.”

Thundercracker rested a light hand on his panicking partner’s forearm. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he assured. “We just need to let this play out.” 

Windblade sighed. “We...I don’t want to ask too much of Wheeljack.”

Thundercracker shrugged. “Well, if you think about it, he’s going to have to make over a hundred wings anyways. Giving him a head start.”

“I gue--” Windblade paused. She shushed her partner, going back to listening in on the conversation. 

“Here. Same time. I’ll provide you with needles, regulations, and your weekly goal. I’ll also introduce you to your handler. Until then maybe you can teach this runt how to get some wings,” he pointed to Pipet with a thumb. “Considering you two already seem so well equipped.” 

Blurr pat the handler on the back. “I appreciate that guy, and thanks a million for this opportunity. What can we call you?”

“Handler. And that’s what you’ll call the other guy too.” 

“Good to know. Solid names, easy to remember,” he walked away from the handler and strode over to Pipet. He grabbed the smaller bot under the arm and interlocked their elbows. “Come on, Pip, looks like new guy and I got a lot to teach you about getting the jump on these pesky wings.” 

Pipet was shocked by the sudden treatment. “Uh…” he stuttered, struggling to keep up. The handler laughed from behind them. “Don’t rough the poor guy up too much. I heard you guys got into enough of a tussle earlier.” 

“Oh we’ll be nice,” Blurr assured, waving a hand above his head. “Just gotta show the little guy here how it’s done.” 

Windblade reactivated their comms. “Did you get everything you need?”

“Twenty!?” Wheeljack said immediately. “In two days!? That is not what I signed up for. I haven’t even perfected the design yet!” 

“Well looks like you’re gonna have to get to it then,” Blurr commented. He released their prisoner at the edge of Decepticon space. “It was fun everyone, but I need to get back to my bar,” he shivered with an ‘ulgh’ “That guy was slimy. I can’t believe I  _ touched  _ him,” another grossed out sound. “He was covered in grime just so you all know. Grime, grease, and probably blood. I need to wash my hands,” he handed the stasis cuffs to Wheeljack. “You can take it from here, right?”

Wheeljack latched the cuffs back on their prisoner's wrists. “Take care of an unarmed guy who’s never been in a fight in his life? I might need help with this one,” Wheeljack joked. He tugged on the cuff’s after they were on making sure they were latched properly. “That was uncomfortably easy.”

“They’re desperate for hunters,” Pipet piped up. “Why do you think they got me?”

“You are pretty useless,” Blurr commented, leaning down to the bot. He shrugged. “But you did get us what we wanted. Why’s your boss so desperate for hunters? I thought this business earned you guys some big shanix. Who wouldn’t want in?”

Pipet shrugged. “Just about anyone who knows about the operations. Too dangerous. Too much work. Too much effort. Plus with a flyer- scratch that- with a  _ seeker.  _ A seeker who just happens to be the notorious  _ Starscream _ as our ruler,” another shrug. “The risk outweighs the benefit.” 

Wheeljack tugged on the cuffs drawing attention to himself. “But not for you,” it was almost a question. 

Pipet scowled. “Look buddy, bots gotta survive somehow.”

“I think you forget that energy is free these days.” 

Before anyone could say anything else Thundercracker and Windblade touched down. “We should get going,” Windblade said sternly. “Staying on their turf for too long could spell trouble.” 

Blurr gave a half salute. “I’m gone, Windy,” he said with a smirk before rushing off. Wheeljack escorted their prisoner back to his cell, lagging behind the two flyers. 

“Ya know, if you let me transform this would go much faster,” Pipet commented as they walked through the streets of Iacon. 

“Shut up,” was all Wheeljack had to say to that. 

Pipet craned his neck to look at his captor. “I don’t get some of you grounders. You I might get, you’ve got a government job, you get all buddy buddy with Starscream, but if the other grounders would just step up to the plate this business could go straight to the top. Look, it’s dangerous, but the shanix are top notch, even for a scrap pair.”

Wheeljack mostly ignored the bot, staring straight ahead and concentrating most of his attention of getting rid of the obnoxious hunter.

“Let me ask you something Pipet,” Wheeljack eventually said. “You ever get your head blown clean off?”

“...No,” Pipet answered hesitantly. “Can’t say that I have.” 

“Alright, well just imagine for a second how much that would hurt. I can tell you from experience that it  _ does.  _ Ever had an eye burned outta yer helm?”

Pipet merely shook his head. “Alright, good for you. You’re a lucky bot, Pipet. One lucky bot. You were a neutral weren’t you?” 

Another nod. 

“Thought so. Now imagine this. Imagine getting your eyes burned outta yer skull...Now imagine getting your head blown off...And now imagine being torn limb from limb,” Wheeljack stopped suddenly. He leaned down to the smaller bot, getting right in his face, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. “That’s  _ nothin’ _ compared to what those fliers feel when you tear off their wings.” 

He leaned back and they started walking again.

“H-how do you know that?”

“I was told by a guy who really should be dead by now. An’ as much as he’s a lying fragger I have a feeling he wouldn’t lie about this. He’s been tellin’ a lot of truth lately, guilt and high grade will do that to a guy.”

They reached the station where Pipet would be held for the night. Wheeljack threw the hunter into his cell and locked the door behind him. “I wantcha to think about that for a little while, Pipet. Think about, for one second, what you might be doin’ to these bots. I’ve killed enough in my day, an’ I’m not proud of it. You became a neutral so you  _ didn’t  _ have to kill anyone. Now look where you are.”

Pipet threw himself at the bars. “I didn’t kill anyone!”

  
Wheeljack began walking towards the exit. “Yeah,” he slid the door closed behind him. “You just keep telling yourself that.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...probably could have made this chapter longer. There are a lot of feelings in this chapter, that's kind of the entire theme of this chapter. Next one should be a while heck of a lot longer. 
> 
> This chapter is not my favorite, and it's kind of confusing. I'd qualify it as the worst chapter so far.

To say Starscream was mad would be accurate. It would have been an understatement if Starscream was not a predominantly angry creature. He could get no more angry than he already was, and thus mad is the proper term for what he was feeling after Windblade informed him that they would not need ten Wings for their operation, but twenty. 

He was raving. Screeching about how Windblade was wasting their resources. Resources that were  _ supposed  _ to be being used to  _ fix  _ the bots affected by this atrocity. 

Windblade calmly reminded Starscream that there would be no more victims if they managed to shut down operations, which they had the chance to do if he’d let her investigative team continue to utilize his resources. 

“Don't you think Wheeljack is working hard enough?” Starscream snapped. 

Windblade put her hands on her hips. “this from the guy who had him fixing an entire gestalt  _ by himself.”  _

Starscream waved her off. “That was  _ years  _ ago.” 

“Five years ago,” Thundercracker cut in. “Not that long ago for us.” 

Starscream huffed, scowling but getting closer to a pout. “ _ fine,”  _ he spat. “do whatever you have to do. And  _ stop  _ coming to me for things. Unless they're legally ambiguous. Your Primus damn “operation” is going to give me a spark attack. I don't want to hear about it anymore, understand? Just  _ take care of it.”  _

Thundercracker rolled his eyes. “Oh thank Primus, I was getting really tired of seeing you.”

Starscream pointed a sharp finger at his former colleague. “You  _ shut up. _ If you want to act like you’re on some fragging _ pedestal _ , fine,I don’t care, but I  _ certainly _ don’t need your  _ attitude _ . Whatever you have to say say it in _ private _ . I have more important things to deal with than _ you.”  _

Thundercracker seemed almost insulted by the reply. He backed down, trying for a scowl but matching Starscream in more of a pout. Windblade looked between them for a second, noting their distinct similarities and differences before getting back to the matter at hand. “We’ll be sure to leave you alone from now on,” she assured. “I just thought you would appreciate frequent updates on the resources we’d be using, provided by you.”

Starscream waved a dismissive hand. “And I do appreciate it, really, but considering the subject of your mission I would rather,” he paused, carefully picking through his words. “Stay. Out of it,” he spit out choppily. “Until it is resolved. Considering your track record I am - mostly - confident in your ability to resolve it.” 

Windblade made a face. “Thank you for that vote of confidence,” she muttered. “I suppose we’ll see you at the end of this,” she mentioned as Starscream headed back to his desk. 

“No. I’ll see  _ you  _ by the end of this,” Starscream sat down and pointed a sharp finger at his former trine mate. “I want him gone  _ as soon _ as this is over, and _ before _ you hand in your report.”

Thundercracker scowled. A second later found him storming out of the room. 

Windblade looked between them again. Starscream, to her surprise, didn’t look at all satisfied with himself. He just looked angry as he pretended to organize the datapads on his desk and keep away from the temptation of looking at his trine mate as he storned out.  

Windblade scowled. “Neither of you are Decepticons any more,” she reminded him. “I think it would aid you both to remember that.” 

Starscream paused in his pretending. His gaze remained on the desk. “You are dismissed Windblade,” he said after a moment. “I...wish you luck on your mission.” 

Windblade was tempted to say more, but decided it best to leave the conversation where it lay. She gave a small nod before going on her way, hurrying to catch up with Thundercracker. 

She managed to catch him in the stairway door, jogging to meet him there. “Hey,” she called. “Wait up.”

Thundercracker did wait, but he was off as soon as she reached him. Windblade followed him up the stairs, barely able to keep up with his walking pace. “No offense, Thundercracker, but I didn’t think you cared about what Starscream thought,” she eventually voiced. 

“I don’t,” Thundercracker spat back, not doing a good job of convincing her.

“Well you’re not doing a very good job of showing it.” 

Thundercracker flung open the door to Windblade’s floor. “Well, that can be hard when he’s so-” Thundercracker struggled to get out the words through his frustration. “ _ So- _ ” he tried again. 

“Insufferable?” Windblade guessed. 

Thundercracker eased. He let out a small sigh. “Whenever I see him.. whenever I _ talk _ to him, it just-- It brings me back to places I’d rather not go. Places  _ he _ dragged us into,” Thundercracker shook his head. “It reminds me that I  _ followed _ him there.” 

Windblade had never been through a war. Not a real one anyways. She’d seen her share of fighting, anger, and even blood shed, but never could she fully understand what kind of toll a four million year war must have on a bot. Especially on one like Thundercracker, who always seemed to have his doubts but followed his trine leader anyways. She could guess at the guilt. She could only assume the pain. She could only  _ try _ and fathom the regret. 

She carefully approached the slumped seeker. She hesitantly lifted a hand and, after a second of consideration, placed the reassuring hand on his wing. He flinched at the touch, coming to attention and turning to look at her, but not removing himself from the touch. 

“I know I can’t... _ really _ understand where you’re coming from,” she started quietly. “But - and I know this is a long shot considering your history - but, maybe consider that the Starscream who dragged you into war...isn’t the one _ you _ dragged  _ out _ .” 

Windblade kept her gaze on the floor for the most part, knowing the words probably wouldn’t have the impact she was hoping for. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a lying fragger-” she added quickly. “But like you said, he does care about things...Sometimes. I can’t pretend to know how you feel, just as much as I can’t pretend to trust Starscream,” she paused, momentarily losing her words. “But you were both pretty quick to renounces Decepticonism from what I’ve heard.”

Thundercracker turned to her, quicker than Windblade was expecting. He just looked at her for a moment. Staring in silence Windblade tried her hardest to read his face, but he was trying his hardest to keep his features stoic. 

Eventually he faltered. 

And the floodgates opened. 

“I have killed  _ so many _ people,” he whispered. “And there is no love lost between him and I. We left for very  _ different _ reasons,” despite all the effort Thundercracker put into not letting his feelings get the better of him he could not stop the silent tear that his optic let slip. “I’m the cold one. That’s my reputation, but at least I have a  _ spark.”  _ he spat. “And I’d be hard pressed to believe that the glitch that heads this government  _ does _ ,” with that Thundercracker turned on a heel and made a beeline for Windblade’s office. “I’m solving this case, and then I’m  _ gone _ ,” he flung open the door to Windblade’s office. “I feel no need to stay where I’m not welcome.”

 

* * *

 

Starscream hissed after burning his finger for a fifth time. He immediately went back at it, though, cursing at the stupid machine and the ignorant soldern. 

Wheeljack sighed, just watching the seeker upset himself. “Starscream, you don’t have to--”

“Hush,” the leader of Cybertron snapped, not even letting Wheeljack finish the thought. “I know what you’re going to say and you’re wrong. You do need my help.”

“Screamer I fixed a space bridge in two hours, and an entire gestalt  _ by myself _ in weeks. I can handle twenty wings in two days.”

Starscream simply rolled his eyes. “You  _ just _ perfected the design Wheeljack, and a few burns aren’t going to kill anyone.”

Wheeljack stepped over and looked over Stascream’s work. He picked up the datapad with the schematic on it and studied it, comparing Starscream’s progress to the instructions. “You sure you got this?”

Starscream waved a hand trying to shoo him away. “Can’t you let me work, grounder, without interrupting me every five second?” 

“I just wanna make sure you’re doing it correctly. I don’t want to get there and have them discover that our wings are fakes.”

Starscream seemed to pause at that. He looked up at Wheeljack, seemingly considering something. In a quick move he snatched the datapad from Wheeljack’s fingers and began carefully checking over his work. 

Wheeljack pat the seeker on the shoulder and let him get on with it. He went back to his work but found himself distracted with the perfect opportunity. 

“So,” he started, trying to pick his work back up. “How have you been,” he paused, making sure all of his effort went into his next words. “Since Thundercracker’s been on world?” he completed, watching carefully for any reaction but spotting none. Nothing noticeable at least.

“Stop distracting me,” Starscream demanded. “I’m working.” 

Wheeljack shrugged. “I was just curious. Seems to be stressin’ you out more than usual.”

“If anything is ‘stressing me out’ as you put it, it’s you getting in with these  _ disgusting _ wing hunters. It’s these wing hunters existing at all!”

Wheeljack rolled his eyes. “Star, it’s just an inside job. What’re these guys gonna do, huh? Cut off my wings? Blurr an’ I will be fine.” 

“It’s not Blurr I’m worried about, it’s  _ you _ . I don’t care about _ Blurr _ , Blurr banned me from his bar, Blurr hates me. It’s  _ you _ .  _ You _ I am worried about, because you are my _ friend _ , people are supposed to worry about their friends,” then Starscream took pause. “That is what they do right? That’s what the book I got keeps telling me.” 

Wheeljack was tempted to laugh but the fact Starscream had to pick up a book on what obligations one has as a friend was too sad for him to laugh at. Instead he just shook his head. “Yeah, Screamer, you’re- you’re supposed to care about your friends.”

Starscream seemed to sigh a vent of relief. “Oh thank goodness, I haven’t been wasting my time then.” 

Wheeljack just cycled his optics, trying to find a suitable reply but finding none. “On another note,” he started, trying to get back to the original topic. “I just thought, ya know, considering all the stuff that happened between you two--”

Starscream rolled his eyes. “Wheeljack, don’t make me and my former trine’s so called “relationship” out to be any more than it is. A reluctant tolerance that we all came out alive at the end. He, I, and Skywarp are exactly where we should be.  _ Thousands of miles away from each other.  _ And In their and I’s case, thousands of  _ lightyears _ .” 

Wheeljack lifted a brow. “So you don’t care about each other at all?”

“Not one bit, pal.” 

Wheeljack was failing on his mission. Or maybe he was succeeding? He was really trying to figure out when he started caring. “So if he, say, I dunno...got his  _ wings _ torn off-- you wouldn’t care at all?”

Starscream stiffened, but only for a split second before getting back to work. “I wouldn’t care because he’s Thundercracker, I’d care because he has wings.” 

Wheeljack shrugged, soldering a nerve into place. “Make’s sense I guess,” he let the conversation settle for a good while before trying to get back on it. The best time to try and get Starscream to talk was when there was a little bit of high grade in him. Starscream hadn’t been drinking lately, though, not wanting to make himself in any way vulnerable. He also hadn’t left the spire, nor had he stretched his wings. Starscream was just as grounded as the rest of them, and it was slowly beginning to drive him mad. Wheeljack could see the stress and lack of flight weighing down his frame more and more every time he came into the lab. 

“Ever tried talking to him?” Wheeljack proposed. “Maybe you two could go out for a fly.”

“The last time I “talked” to him I ended up shooting him in the back. We didn’t leave on what I’d call the best of terms,” Starscream closed up with wing he was working on and placed it on the pile with it’s twin. “If he and I are ever going to have a talk it’ll be on our death beds assuring each other that we still hate each other.” 

“But you  _ don’t  _ hate each other, do you?” 

Starscream sighed, pinching the rim of his brow. “Why do you want to talk about this? It’s not as though it matters,” Starscream grumbled, grabbing another hollow wing and getting to work. 

“You’re just saying that because it’s making you  _ feel _ ,” Wheeljack muttered, not intending for Starscream to hear. He was promptly met with a bolt to the side of the head. 

“I can hear you muttering about me, Wheeljack,” Starscream said as soon as Wheeljack’s eyes met him. “And you’re wrong. But you’re right, I  _ don’t _ hate Thundercracker. Not really. But I don’t not hate him because I  _ like _ him, I don’t not hate him because I can’t see any way in which  _ hating _ him would  _ serve _ me. In other words, it would be a waste of my time. He’s not _ worth  _ hating. I simply _ don’t care _ .” 

After a half moment of consideration Wheeljack nodded. “Makes sense. Outta sight outta mind I guess,” he shrugged. “I was just thinkin’, ya know, since you’ve been so set lately on improving yourself, mending bonds an’ all that scrap, that you might wanna do that with him,” another shrug. “But hey, what’do I know?” he held up a finished wing and inspected it. “Never been where you are.”

  
Starscream carefully set down his soldering tool. “No,” he agreed quietly. “Though then again, neither have I.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sure how happy I am with the end of this chapter.

Windblade woke up early on the morning of the infiltration. She passed Thundercracker on the couch and decided to just let him sleep. She heard him up all night pacing about her apartment. Windblade, for the first time in a week, had gotten at least a good enough night sleep. Good enough to be fully alert during the day. This mission was crucial to shutting down the wing hunting operations, she needed everyone to be at their best. 

The first person she contacted was Blurr who was already up and serving drinks. They spoke briefly before Blurr had to be off. He assured her that he’d be off and ready at the right time, until then she could fine him at the bar. 

Windblade’s next stop was Wheeljack, who didn’t answer his comm. He didn’t answer on her first hail, and he didn’t answer on her fifth. By then Windblade had already indulged in a cube of energon and was getting ready to go out for a morning fly. She assumed the engineer was just asleep, recovering from what was most likely the straining project of building and painting twenty sets of wings. She assumed she wasn’t going to get an answer through comm, and so decided to stop by his lab on her flight. 

She was surprised to find Wheeljack was not only awake, but working on the last set of wings. 

“Why didn’t you answer your comm?” she inquired, carefully stepping between the piles of wings and prototypes to get to the scientist. 

“Concentrating,” Wheeljack answered quickly. “Turned it off.”

“And you’re communicator?” Windblade asked, putting her hands on her hips in slightly annoyance. 

Wheeljack shrugged. “Kept wakin’ up sleepin’ beauty over there,” he glanced towards the sleeping figure of Starscream hunched over the other work bench. “Gettin’ one power converter chucked at my head was enough.” 

Windblade looked, brow raised, at the leader of cybertron dead asleep over his workbench. His plating was spotted with blotches of paint, most likely from the airbrush he held against the back of his head, or the half painted wing that rested right at his elbow. 

“What is he doing here?”

Wheeljack spared the leader another glance before getting back to his work. “He’s been helping me these past couple days. Built about half, painted all of ‘em. I’m just letting him sleep for now. Guy hasn’t slept in--” Wheeljack shrugged, turning back to his work. “I dunno, probably a month,” he mumbled, concentration falling back on the wing. “Should all be ready by the time we need ‘em to be, no worries Windy.”

Windblade turned her attention back to Starscream. “He’s been helping you?” 

“Yeah,” Wheeljack drawled. “Couldn’t get him off my back. I assigned him to paint duty after he burned himself for the thousandth time.”

“How long has he been out?”

Wheeljack shrugged a shoulder. “Eh, three hours give or take. I tried to get him to leave when he started dozing, but of course he wasn’t about to listen to  _ me _ .” 

“Will you be ready for tonight’s mission?”

The scientist waved a hand. “Yeah yeah yeah, like I said, you don’t have anything to worry about on my end,” he closed up the wing and set it aside. “See? Already done with ‘em all. All’s left to do is kick Screamer outta my lab, finish up the painting, and practice my strong but silent guy act.”

“I’ll comm you when we’re set to move in.”

“You an’ the Blue wonder will be in our ear the entire time, right?” 

Windblade lifted a brow. “Blue Wonder?” she questioned slowly. 

“Yeah. Thundercracker I mean,” Wheeljack shook his head. “Guess that’s what I get for spending a whole two days with Starscream.” 

Windblade suddenly became curious. “You two talked?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “If you could call it that.”

“What...did you two talk about?” she tried to make the questioned sound as innocent as possible, but it still drew a suspicious look from her colleague.

He flashed her a wary optic before answering. He shrugged. “Nothing really...Why?” 

Windblade dropped the innocent facade and decided it best not to prove Thundercracker right and lie. “Because I seem to have grown a sudden interest in the trine,” she admitted, somewhat irritated with it herself. 

Wheeljack simply scoffed. “Yeah, you and everyone else in the universe.” 

Windblade fell into a sullen look. “They really hate each other don’t they?”

“Makes ya wonder how they managed to work so well together for four million years. A’ course,” he shrugged. “I hear the ever looming figure of  _ Megatron _ can make for some pretty good  _ motivation _ .”   

“I’m assuming “pretty good” translates to “self preserving””

“You’d be assuming right,” Wheeljack shook his head. “The stories Starscream has told me,” he shuttered. “Makes me even more glad I chose the Autobots.” 

Windblade wanted to ask the engineer questions, knowing that he probably knew more about the current Starscream than almost anyone. She was curious. She wanted to know how the ruler’s mind worked, why he thought the things he did and acted the way he acted. She assumed, as she assumed with many things, that the key to the present was the past. At the moment she had two sources for each, from two very different perspectives. She wanted to push. But now wasn’t the time. 

“I’m glad you chose the Autobots too,” she said quietly. She rested a light hand atop the scientists shoulder. “I will see you in the evening. Be sure to bring the wings,” she half joked, letting a smile slip onto her face before she stepped away.  

She headed back to her apartment where Thundercracker had finally awoke. He was helping himself to a cube when Windblade arrived. “I think the next thing Starscream should tackle is hotels,” the seeker said as soon as Windblade came into view. “I almost feel guilty crashing on your couch this whole time.” 

Windblade smiled, taking the seat across from him. “Emphasis on almost, I hope. It’s really no trouble. Energy is free after all.” 

“Well, at least Screamer can do something right,” Thundercracker mumbled into his cube before taking a sip. “Where were you?”

“I just went out for a fly. Went to visit Wheeljack, make sure everything will be ready for tonight.”

“Will it be?”

“Of course,” she smirked. “He is Wheeljack after all. From what I’ve seen and heard he’s not one to let a job go unfinished.”

“Yeah,” the seeker drawled. “I’m sure my chassis has experienced that first hand.” 

Windblade’s smirk fell. “Sometimes I forget you all used to be enemies.”

Thundercracker lowered his cube. “It’s easy to forget when you were never there.”

Windblade perked with surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No, that was mean of me,” Thundercracker put a hand up. “A little too much like Starscream for my liking,” he forced a smile. “So what’s on the docket for today? Other than getting this Wing Hunting business taken care of.”

“I didn’t have anything in mind but planning and worrying.” 

“We could…” Thundercracker trailed off, seeming hesitant to voice his suggestion. “go for a fly,” he offered. “Outside of the city. Where we don't have to worry about grounds grabbing at us.”

Windblade smiled. “beats sitting around here all day.” 

Thundercracker smiled back. A real smile. No force necessary. 

 

* * *

 

Starscream wouldn't leave Wheeljacks lab. The scientist practically begged the stubborn seeker to get out and let him work, but Starscream was not to be moved. 

In his fatigue he ended up wiping a great deal of blue paint on his face, which then caused him to get angry and get even more paint on himself. His frustration eventually led to the paint gun to explode all over him. By then Wheeljack couldn't hold in his laughter any more and was halfway to the floor by the time Starscream regained enough wits to chuck the broken paint gun at him and demand he help him clean this mess up. 

Wheeljack wiped a tear from his eye as he sat up, coming down from the laughter. “Alright. Alright alright alright. Don't get your thrusters in a twist,” Wheeljack shoved himself to his feet. “There's a hose in back, I'll rinse ya off.” 

Starscream sneered. “Don't do me any favors.” 

Wheeljack scoffed. “just come on.” 

There was a little space in the back of Wheeljack s lab that he used to rinse off himself and his projects whenever things went awry. He sprayed down the paint coated ruler of Cybertron, mostly just helping to rinse off his wings. “how did you even get it on your wings?” The scientist asked, brow raised as he splashed the solution over it. 

“Don't ask me stupid questions,” Starscream bit back. 

“Turn around.” 

Starscream turned and was promptly met with a spray to the face. He scowled at the smirking engineer before snatching the nozzle away and continuing the deed himself. “I bet you think you're so funny,” he grumbled, rinsing off the rest of his frame. Some of the paint was too dry to wash off with a simple spray. Instead of getting frustrated Starscream tossed his scientist the nozzle and sauntered out of the room. “I'm heading back to my apartment. Don't wait up.” 

“Don’t come back.”

Starscream smirked over his shoulder before fully taking his leave. He would be back. Eventually. 

Starscream made the trek back to his apartment, using the deepest, most hidden pathway he could fathom to get up to the top of the spire. Once there Starscream ridden himself of the rest of the paint stains before letting himself indulge in a solute bath. It helped ease his tight and aching frame, as he was sore from lack of flight. 

It had been months since he’d transformed. Much longer than recommended for flight frames such as himself. He hadn’t left the tower in those months either, which was beginning to give him an itch no level of scratching could ever satisfy. That didn’t mean he was going to do what it took to eradicate it, however, as that would require going outside. 

And that was where the wing hunters were. 

Starscream, despite his strengths, would not risk losing his wings again. 

_ Never again _ . 

He would leave the spire when they were wiped out by Windblade and the blue goon. Starscream sneered to himself at the thought of it. 

That pesky Camien, always sneaking behind his back. Inviting pests to his planet. Who does she think she is? And who does Thundercracker think he is? Believing himself in any way welcome back on the planet he betrayed. Ruled by his former trine leader.

He sneered again. ‘Trine leader.’ what a disgusting taste such words put in his mouth. Even still, years after he stopped being their commander, Starscream could not help but scowl at the fact he lead those incompetent fools into battle. Maybe if Megatron had provided him with soldiers as capable as himself and even half as capable as his trine mates, the old war lord wouldn’t have called ‘retreat’ as often as he did. 

Starscream sunk into the bath, burying his head in the warm cloudy solution. He stayed there for a while, trying to purge the undesirable thoughts from his mind.  

He didn’t want to think about the war. He didn’t want to think about Megatron, or his trine, or his former troops. He never wanted to think about the past, yet it still always managed to invade is phsyci. 

He growled under the solution, taking hold of his head in an attempt to squeeze the memories from the front of his mind. Get them out or shove them to the back where they belong. He squeezed his eyes shut as images from the war flashed in front of his vision. Megatron’s rough hands found his frame, and Autobot guns met his cockpit. 

Starscream flung himself to the surface, desperate to get out of his former master’s grasp. Solution splashed over the edge of the tub as he came up. Starscream quickly climbed out and dried himself off. He flicked off the light as he left, not bothering to drain the tub. 

He quickly retreated to his berth and laid down. His frame still ached, and his head still throbbed, being poked and proded by invaders from the past. He turned out the lights and put on some music, the only thing he could think to break the silence and distract himself. 

He needed to work. Go to his office. But the overwhelming ach of his frame hardly allowed for any movement. He growled to himself, wondering when he’d gotten so weak. He had taken more than one near death beating from Megatron, he should be able to handle some frame fatigue. For goodness sakes there was a whole period of time in which he wasn’t even  _ capable _ of flight. This should not be phasing him as much as it is. 

After about an hour Starscream forced himself from the berth and lazily made his way to his office where he proceeded to fall asleep at his desk almost as soon as he sat down. 

He groaned, halfway into recharge. 

This promised to be a long day. 

 

* * *

 

Windblade and Thundercracker flew until the sun was just beginning to fall over the horizon. They landed on one of the last remaining towers in Vos to watch the sunset. Windblade leaned back on her hands, letting her legs dangle over the edge while Thundercracker sat forward, elbows on his knees. 

“I can’t remember the last time I got to watch the sun go down on this planet,” Thundercracker mumbled, his gaze never wavering from the bright spectacle. “Feels like an eternity ago.” 

Windblade managed to draw her gaze away from the sunset and look to Thundercracker. He looked lost. 

Although, maybe not lost so much as...far away. 

Somewhere Windblade couldn’t visit. 

Somewhere she couldn’t even try. 

She turned her attention back to the horizon. “It reminds me of Caminus,” she said, though not entirely on purpose. 

It was Thundercracker’s turn to glance. “That’s your planet, right?” 

Windblade merely nodded, allowing a small smile to slip onto her face at the thought of her home. It disappeared a moment later, her gaze falling to the lands in her lap. “There isn’t much sunset to watch on Caminus. Not any more,” she allowed herself to look back to the Cybertronian sunset, the smile still absent from her face. “Just a cold little planet. Peaceful but...cold.” 

Thundercracker leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at his companion's face. “Caminus,” he echoed. “What’s it like?”

Windblade shrugged. “It’s...religious,” she grumbled. “And cold. There aren’t a great many people there any more. We--” she sighed. “It’s dying,” she said bluntly. “Which is why we came here, to Cybertron. We were hoping for trade relations. We got a bit more than we bargained for.”  

“You’re talking about the council of worlds.” 

Windblade nodded. “Though I had my hand in that as well, I admit,” she mumbled, barely loud enough for Thundercracker to hear. She decided it best to change the subject. “Can I ask you a   question?” 

“Sure, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it.” 

Windblade took a moment to think over her words before asking. “What--exactly _ is _ a seeker?” 

Thundercracker made a face, though it was neither here nor there in expression. 

“A seeker,” he started, though his voice sounded distant, as if falling into a memory. “Is,” he shrugged lazily. “Exactly what it sounds like. We find things. We destroy things.  _ That  _ was our purpose. We were flight frames. Warriors. Seek and Destroy, that was the motto. Some of the most impressive bots ever constructed. We got extra sensors, extra fire power, extra skill,” he tapped his head. “Extra processing power.” 

“Smarter than the average bot.” Windblade muttered. 

“You could say that. Though, that’s debatable, considering we all decided to follow  _ Megatron _ ,” he huffed out something of a laugh. “Of course, they all followed Megatron, everyone with wings. Everyone who wanted to be more than what they were made for. Your friend, Skyfire, he was a Decepticon once. Briefly, before the war broke out.” 

“Was he?” Windblade couldn’t hide her surprise. He always seemed like such a docile mech, whereas Decepticons just...weren’t. “He neglected to mention that.”

Thundercracker shrugged. “I don’t blame him. Who would ever want to admit they were ever a  _ Decepticon _ in a world where _ Autobots _ won the war? No matter how brief a time you spent,” he couldn’t help but let slip a laugh. “Though, I guess none of that really matters now. All that time we spent fighting and  _ Starscream _ is in charge,” another laugh. “Irony at it’s finest.” 

“...What about Skywarp?”

“What  _ about _ Skywarp?”

“I mean, what’s he like? I’ve heard of him, but-- I’m just curious.”

“Skywarp is a hard headed idiot who teleports. That’s about all you need to know.”

“Oh…”

Thundercracker’s demeanor seemed to shift at the response. “He-- works with the humans now,” he added. “Still a jerk though. He’s too loyal for his own good. It’s a bad combination you see, being loyal and stupid. And mean. He’s a jerk.”

Windblade smiled. “And here I thought you were all jerks,” she joked. 

Thundercracker couldn’t help but smile. “Heh, don’t worry, you weren’t too far off,” he assured, giving his partner a little nudge. “We’re just all different  _ kind _ of jerks.” 

They laughed lightly at the joke before going silent for the rest of the sunset. As the bright orb reached the end of it’s life in the sky, and the only remaining moon of Cybertron came into view, the two took off from their tower and headed back towards the city. 

They met Blurr and Wheeljack at the rendezvous point at the border of the Decepticon ghetto. Pipet was with them, held fast by the arm by Wheeljack, no stasis cuffs necessary. Blurr dragged behind him a cart covered by a tarp. 

Thundercracker and Windblade flew off to their spot before Wheeljack and Blurr got going to meet the handler. Wheeljack leaned over slightly to Pipet who he was still holding by the arm. “I’ll let ya walk if you promise not to run off.” 

Pipet scowled. “Don’t patronize me.” 

Wheeljack shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

Pipet huffed. “I promise I won’t run off,” he grumbled. He was immediately released, the suddenness of the action knocking him off kilter. He wasn’t actually expecting to be let go. “You’re a jerk,” he grumbled angrily. “I can’t believe you’re dragging me into this stupid plan with you.” 

“I can’t believe you were stupid enough to get caught. Now shut up and follow along.” 

Pipet grumbled to himself but said nothing more. They reached the rendezvous point where their handler was already waiting. 

“I see you’ve delivered,” he started. “Much better than last night it looks like.”

“Last night was just a practice run,” Blurr said, putting on his charm. “Needed to scope out the prey. Takes some time, which I’m sure you’re aware of. Have we got a surprise for you tonight my friend,” Blurr snapped the tarp off his haul to present the twenty sets of wings, freshly “hunted.” 

Wheeljack had taken it upon himself to tear the edges off half the sets to make it look like they’d been torn from a living creature’s back. The other half were kept smooth as though they’d been cut from the victim. 

“We weren’t sure what you’re client base preferred, so I tore and Wheeljack cut,” Blurr said with some fake pride. “We hope our picks will be to the bosses satisfaction.” 

The handler couldn’t help but smile, highly impressed by his new employees abilities. “Well this certainly is a haul,” he said, approaching the horde of severed wings. He sifted through them a moment. “A bit of scratched paint, but no damage to major,” he waved a hand. “Scratched paint is an easy fix. Man, will the boss he happy about this.”

Blurr puffed his chest with pride. He did something similar to a snicker. “Of course he will. Who would I be if not a crowd pleaser? Now, there is the subject of payment, and, if I remember correctly, ten wings gets you a meeting with the big guy.”

The handler huffed a laugh. “Eager guys, aren’t ya?” he smirked. “But I won’t deny my hunters what they’re owed. Come on,” he waved for the two to follow. “You’re helping me haul this back to the bunker.”

Blurr smirked, satisfied with his performance. He could hardly take a step forward before something was thrown over his head and he was grabbed by the arms and held still. Something clasped around his wrists, leaving him immobile. If Blurr wanted to get away he could, easily, but he didn’t want to get away.

“Of course,” the Handler’s voice broke the cover. “We can’t just let you in on our location just yet. Simple business, you understand. So my boys here will help you out.”

Blurr and Wheeljack were shoved into what they both assume was some sort of transport. 

“Just keep sittin’ pretty ‘till we get there.”

They heard a door suck shut and the darkness over their optics seemed to darken. 

“This went well,” Blurr said with a surprising lack of sarcasm. “We’re in at least.”

“Yeah, in a heap’a trouble I’m sure,” Wheeljack grumbled. 

“Look, just because we’ve got bags over our head and are being dragged to a top-secret location used for highly illegal business does  _ not  _ mean we’re in a heap a trouble. We’re hunters now, remember? What we’re in is a heap of Shanix if this all goes well, now shut up and play your part.”

The ride was cramped and uncomfortable, but not long enough to complain about. Soon enough they were being shoved out of the transport and deposited on the floor. They were on their knees when the bags were pulled off their heads. Both looked up to find a gold colored bot standing over them. Blurr was on his feet in an instant. “You the boss, or you the guy who’s gonna take us to the boss?” he asked out right, keeping on his weasel smile. 

The gold bot, who was just a head shorter than Blurr, lifted an eye at the racer. “Guy who’s gonna take you,” the peaked behind him and nodded to the handler and his boys. A second later the stasis cuffs were taken from their wrists. Wheeljack pushed himself off the floor and came to stand right at Blurr’s elbow. 

The gold bot turned, waving a hand for them to follow. “This way,” he instructed.

They walked through a doorway into a bright room similar to a hangar. The area was filled with bins and shelves full of wings of different shapes and sizes. They were being picked and prodded by workers, organizing them by quality, color, frame type and more. 

“Quite an operation you’ve got here,” Blurr commented, staring in awe at the mere size of it. 

Their guide huffed a laugh. “Yeah, really humbles a bot don it?” he pointed to some workers who were handing off wings to each other for inspection. “We organize, clean, fix, buff, the works. Hauls come in where we came out. Boss makes sure stuff runs smoothly...speaking of--” 

They soon found themselves being approached by a bright red bot, tailed by two tank formers. He was tall and slim with very little armor between him. He smiled at the new comers, putting his arms out with an “Ahhhh, so these are my new hunters,” he greeted, coming to a halt before the guide. This new bot wore a grin that was all too satisfied with itself. His face was silver but his cheeks were gold, matching his pedes, hands, and parts of his pointed helmet. The bot suddenly scowled, looking to something behind his guests. “What is he doing here?” he sneered.  

Blurr turned to see Pipet had been trailing them. He didn’t even know the little bot had been there. 

The Guide was quick to explain. “They brought him with them. He’s been so useless Turn thought we could use him in the shop. These two guys seem to like ‘im.” 

The red bot continued to sneer, but this time it was with thought. After a few seconds of consideration his sneer fell and he waved a hand. “Very well,” he sighed. “Put him on a line. And make sure he doesn’t muck anything up.” then the smile returned, and he turned his attention back to Blurr and his partner. “Now, you two I’m glad to see,” he brushed past the Guide, dismissing him in the process. The red bit, who Blurr could only assume was the head of this operation, didn’t stand much taller than Blurr, but it was enough for him to stare down at his bots. “Blurr and Wheeljack, some of my  _ best  _ hunters.”

Blurr was tempted to sneer but held back. If he had never seen a prick before he sure had now. The Red bot, who was now standing uncomfortably close to Blurr, put out a hand. “You can call me Boss, it’s nice to meet you. And certainly to meet he who won one of the biggest races on Velocitron.” 

Blurr put on his smiled. He didn’t shake the hand. “Oh, boss, you flatter me. Please, keep talking.” 

Boss chucked, drawing away. “I would love to, I really would, but unfortunately for me time is money,” he laughed. “Or, Wings, as you can see,” he turned and began his walk through the facility, waving for Blurr and Wheeljack to follow. “As you can see I run quite the operation. Largest on Cybertron currently, and I intend to keep it that way,” his smile widened. “With hunters like you I am sure I can. If you keep it up. Which,” another chuckle. “With your skill in the field I’m sure will be no problem.” 

“I plan on keeping at it for a while,” Blurr assured. “There can be no operation without hunters, and without the operation I don’t get paid.”

“Of course. We have yet to discuss that, haven’t we? Come, we’ll talk in my private quarters.” 

They finished walking through the facility and made their way into a narrower hallway, well lit. After a couple of turns they hit a door. The tankformers took their place on either side of it as Boss invited his guests in. 

This new room was well furnished, but dim. There was a couch and a couple of chairs, and a table containing a whole variety of high-grades set beside a pillar of glasses. Boss was at the table first. “Please, take a seat,” he instructed as he passed. “High-grade?” he offered as Blurr and Wheeljack took their seats on the couch. The hunters exchanged a glance before accepting. 

They were each handed a glass before Boss took the seat across from them. He lifted his glass. “To good hunting,” he proposed. 

Blurr and Wheeljack followed the action. “To good hunting,” they agreed, before taking a swig. 

“Ah,” Boss vented. “Nothing like a good grade to ease the nerves. I wanted to talk to you two about your position in my company. I like you, Blurr,” he looked to Wheeljack. “And your partner. Strong and silent, tend to be my best workers. How is he in the field?”

Wheeljack piped up. “If my track record could talk it’d say I’m pretty good. Luckily it don’t have to.”

Boss smirked. “Strong, silent, and independant. I can work with that. Anyways, boys, I want you to be my right hand mechs. I have a lot of employees, and a lot of hunters, but having two high profile bots at my side, now  _ that _ would keep my at the top for a good long while. Not just in sales and volume, but in status.” 

Blurr hummed. “You want us to be shoulder bots,” he confirmed. “Like those tanks out there.” 

Boss hummed in response. “In a way. You would more be hiding in the shadows. Watching my hunters, making sure they’re doing their jobs, making sure they’re bringing in the haul. Then, when I need you, you’re right on call. You’d still be hunting, and you wouldn’t be handlers, nor would you be shoulder mechs. You’d be my partners.” 

Blurr smirked. “Now that’s a deal I can get behind. But of course, my partner would also have to agree,” they both turned their attention to Wheeljack. The engineer shrugged. “What’s a bit of good business?” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “So long as I don’t miss work.”

Blurr suddenly perked. “Right. There is the matter of jobs. As much as I like the idea, Boss, my dislike of the idea of giving up my bar outweighs it.”

Boss waved a hand. “Oh, you won’t need to worry about that. Blurr your bar will stay up and running as long as you, and Wheeljack,” he smiled that devilish smile. “Your government job is of utmost importance. You can keep an eye on Starscream for us. Make sure we continue to dance around any suspicion.” 

 

\-------------------------

 

“Do you think they’re in?”

“They’re comms went down, I can’t get anything.”

 

\-------------------------

 

Boss put out a hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

 

\-------------------------

 

“If we don’t move in now we’ll miss our shot.”

“But if we move in too soon Blurr and Wheeljack will  _ get _ shot.”

 

\-------------------------

 

Blurr smirked. “I think we might just,” he reached out his hand.

 

\------------------------

 

“Will you two quit bickerin’! We’ve got a location, we’re moving in  _ now _ .” 

 

\-----------------------

 

Boss perked at the boom. In his distraction Blurr took hold of the out stretched hand and pulled the red bot into a headlock, quickly slipping on a pair of stasis cuffs before the bot even knew what hit him. Boss stared wide eyed and angry at his hunters. “You tricked me!” he roared as he was held down on the ground. 

Blurr smiled. “We certainly did, Boss bot,” he leaned down slightly. “It’s a good thing you’re new to this whole ‘illegal’ business thing. Otherwise we may have never made it past your guys.”

“You’ll regret this,” Boss growled.

“I’m almost positive I won’t. But you sure will. I think Lord Starscream would just  _ love _ to meet the guy who’s been cutting off wings.”

Boss shuttered. “N-now now, we can make a deal,” he proposed weakly. “I can give you anything you want.”

Blurr hauled the bot to his feet. “Unfortunately for you what I want  is to see you behind bars,” he shoved the prisoner into Wheeljack’s arms. “Take him out, I’m going to rendezvous with Windblade and Thundercracker, hopefully.” 

Blurr rushed out into the main room. The workers were being rounded up and escorted out in stasis cuffs. Ironhide was looking over operations while Thundercracker and Windblade were gathering the wings. They wore a sullen look at they collected the wings for transport. It didn’t appear to be a task they’d signed up for.  

Blurr rushed over. “Are you both alright?” he asked. “Raid went well I see.” 

“Yeah,” Thundercracker drawled, his eyes locked on one of the wings in his hands. “I had no idea…” he trailed off. 

“I wasn’t expecting so many either,” Windblade completed. She sighed. “There are so many more victims than we even imagined.”

“They could be dead,” Thundercracker spat. “Held up in their apartments, terrified to go outside,” he growled, throwing the wing on the ground and stomping away. “DIsgusting,” he sneered. He needed to leave. He couldn't take the sight of so many lives lost. Not again. 

Windblade took a glance at Blurr before rushing to catch up to the seeker. “Hey!” She called after him. He didn't stop. She came at a pace beside him, taking quicker steps to match his larger stride. “hey,” she vented when she finally caught up with him. “are you heading back to the tower?” 

“I'm headed away from here,” he spat. “Wherever that is.” 

“Why don't we take Boss back to be interrogated. If you're up to that today.” 

Thundercracker sneered. He stopped in his journey, seeming to consider something. He clenched and unclenched his fists. 

Windblade could see the gears turning in his head. “No,” she said sternly. “we can not hurt him. As tempting as it is. We leave the verdict up to the court.” 

“I want him to hurt as much as he's hurt others,” he turned sharply to his partner.  “Everywhere I turn. Everywhere I turn Windblade, someone is trying to hurt someone else, someone is always trying to make someone else's life miserable. And I am sick of it,” he clenched his fists again. “I want someone like that to know what it feels like. Someday we’re going to learn how to leave eachother alone, and I’m not going to be around to see it. But I’m going to see fraggers like him get what they deserve,” a second later he was moving again. “I’ll be in the interrogation room,” he called back before leaping into flight. 

Windblade wanted to go after him, but thought better of it. She was needed there, with Ironhide, Blurr and Wheeljack. As she made her way back to where they blew a hole in the floor she passed Boss being shoved into a transport. She found herself scowling at him, wanting just as much as Thundercracker to get ‘revenge’ on the bot who organized the mutilation of hundreds of winged frames. 

She doused her rage and got back to the task at hand. They needed to gather the wings and get everyone out, while also making sure no one escaped to warn anyone still out in the field that the operation was a bust. She met Blurr back inside and was surprised to find him and Wheeljack with Pipet. He was in handcuffs but not moving along with the rest of the prisoners. 

‘What’s this one doing here?” she asked, pointing to the smaller bot. 

Blurr continued to look at the scowling Pipet as he spoke. “Our little friend here knocked out a guard. We want to move him separately for another bout of questioning.”

Windblade lifted a brow. “You two don’t have to stick around for this. You’ve played your part.”

Wheeljack shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, but we like to see the job gettin’ done. Been a long time since we’ve done something like this.” 

Piped piped up before anyone could reply. “Will you drag me back to my cell already? You got my records, I’m innocent of all crimes.”

Wheeljack took it upon himself to smack the bot on the back of the head. Not hard, but enough to jar slightly. “Pipe down, you’ll get your word in,” he sighed. “I’ll take him back. Leave you all to finish up here.”

He grabbed Pipet by the stasis cuffs and they started towards the entrance. “Be sure to let me know how the interrogation goes.” 

“I'll be sure to let you in on the details. That was, if Windblade didn't kill the guy before she could get a question in. Windblade was confident in Thundercracker ability to control himself. At the same time, though she'd seen her fair share of moments when anger got the best of a bot. Not excluding herself. 

As everyone was loaded and arrested Windblade decided it was time for her to leave. The journey back to the interrogation room felt like seconds as she allowed herself to be sucked into her thoughts, thinking hard about the questions she wanted to ask those bot. There weren't many to ask, really the case was straightforward enough. The recordings they'd gathered and witness statements would be enough to put Boss behind bars for a very very long time. 

When she reached the room Thundercracker was waiting, and Boss was alone in the interrogation room. 

“I waited for you,” Said Thundercracker when Windblade entered the viewing chamber. 

“And I appreciate it. Now let's get this over with.” 

The interrogation was as straightforward as one might imagine. Boss didn't really confess, but he answered all questions accordingly and with venom. There was one thing he wouldn't admit though, and one question he couldn't answer. 

“I didn't  _ start  _ the trend. I just hoped on the bandwagon.” He spat for the third time. 

Windblade laid her hands flat in the table tired of this bout. “Well who did?” 

“ _ I don't know,”  _ Boss answered sternly. “A pair if wings showed up on Velocitron’s doorstep and the people wanted more. I took an  _ opportunity _ , but I don't know how they got there. The trend caught on, I got  _ competition _ .” 

Windblade eased back, looking to Thundercracker who stood silently against the wall. After a second he spoke. “I bet you know who that is, don't you?” he challenged, bouncing off the wall and approaching the table. “I don't know any good businessman who doesn't keep an ear to his components,” he circled the table, coming to stand right behind the bot. “and I've dealt with my fair share of business men.”

Boss scowled. “like your firmed said, I'm not much of a businessman.” 

“You and I both know that's a lie,” Thundercracker shrugged. “but hey, if you think that'll hold up in Starscream’s court, go right ahead.”

Boss seemed to stiffed, but tried to hide it with a scowl. Thundercracker continued. “ _ However,  _ And as much as I don't want this for you, we  _ may  _ be able to lighten your sentence if you ratted out your competitors. Just maybe, though. Considering your crimes I can't imagine your sentence can get any  _ worse.  _ Whatever that may  _ be,”  _ he leaned over the terrified bots shoulder. “I wouldn't take that chance though.”

Windblade stiffed a smirk. Boss looked to her as if searching for aid. “I'd listen to him,” the city speaker advised. “I'm sure the  _ worst  _ thing you could possibly imagine isn't nearly as bad as what Starscream has in store for you.” 

The red bot seems to gulp, and scowl he had falling away into pire fear. 

“Alright,” he agreed quickly. “alright, I'll help you. I can give you names, locations, anything you want.” 

Windblade smirked. “Your cooperation is appreciated.” 

 

* * *

 

To say the raids went well would be an understatement. Within only a week Windblade and Thundercracker managed to crack down on the three largest Wing Hunting Operations on Cybertron. In the process they learned that a majority of the client base was from Velocitron, while a majority of the workers came from Cybertron. A surprising amount of Hunters originated from Caminus, a fact Windblade could only shake her head at. To think her people would take part in such a deplorable practice, it disappointed her. 

None of the Kingpins admitted to starting the trend, but it was assumed the oldest running operation, co-operated by a pair from Divisium, was to blame for the start of the Wing Hunting Phenomena.  It was strange to see the colonists integrating over such illegal business. Of course, however, origins tend to blur when shanix stir the mix

Originally, upon first hearing the news, the Leader of Velocitron came all the way from the colony herself to right the wrong her people had so prominently taken part in. Starscream called a meeting for the Council of Worlds, one that did not only involve delegates, but the leaders themselves. This practice spanned over every colony and needed to be dealt with accordingly before any other planet was effected as heavily as Cybertron.

The agreement was immediate, and probably the quickest debate they’d ever had. 

As the politics were worked out Windblade, Thundercracker, Blurr and Wheeljack continued to hunt down and arrest the remaining loose hunters and workers who managed to slip away from the initial raids. Thundercracker was adamant about catching every last one of the sick bots. They also had some assistance from Pipet, who agreed to assist them on raids and infiltrations if they looked over his Hunting profile as proof that he committed less crimes than everyone else. No one promised him it would hold up in Starscream’s court, but they decided to humor the guy. In reality Pipet had only delivered three sets of wings to Boss, and upon looking at every other hunter’s profile it was a significantly smaller amount than the average haul for the amount of time he’d been working. Windblade was surprised they kept him around for so long, considering how practically useless he was to the business. 

Though, she couldn’t complain. A useless hunter sounded much better to her than an efficient one. 

After one of their last missions, the one Thundercracker planned on leaving after, Windblade presented her partner with a file. “It’s a complete report,” she explained. “Including every single bot who's come forward to claim their wings, and every bot who’s come out of the woodwork wingless, claiming or not. I need to get it to Starscream.”

Thundercracker scoffed. “And what? You want me to do it?”

“I need to meet with the leaders and citizens of Caminus. The delegates are making statements today. Everyone else is busy,” she said in a rush. “Just put in on his desk, he’ll probably ignore you. I’ll see you in a couple of hours to give you a proper goodbye, but right now I need to go,” with that she rushed off. 

Thundercracker wanted to protest further but he could barely get a word out before she was gone. A growling sigh escaped his mouth as he reluctantly went to deliver the report. For a moment he considered handing it off to some other sorry bot, but he didn’t want the Screamer to tear any one’s head off for showing up uninvited. Then again Thundercracker wasn’t exactly a welcome guest. 

The door was slightly ajar when Thundercracker arrived. He slipped in and found Starscream sitting at his desk reading a data pad. Thundercracker carefully approached the desk. Starscream didn’t seem to notice him, or if he did he didn’t feel inclined to grace him with acknowledgement. Thundercracker laid the datapad on the desk and turned away, fully prepared to take his leave. 

Before his curiosity got the better of him. Thundercracker stopped short, turning so he was facing the ruler of Cybertron. “How did you do it?” he asked.

Starscream glanced at him, seemingly surprised that there was someone else in the room. “What?” he asked, having not heard the question. Thundercracker was almost taken aback by how casual the question sounded, and how little venom laced Starscream’s tone while addressing him. 

“I said how did you do it,” Thundercracker repeated. Starscream went back to his data pad. “How did I do what?” he asked absently. 

“How did you manage to become the ruler of Cybertron? Or, more, how did you manage to trick everyone into voting for you.”

Starscream waved a hand. “No trickery required. I had alleys and a titan, apparently that’s all one needs.”

The casual nature of Starscream’s tone unsettled Thundercracker. The blue seeker stood a little taller. “I find that hard to believe, considering your reputation.”

Starscream rolled his eyes, putting down his data pad. He swiveled his chair so that he was facing Thundercracker. “You want to have a conversation, fine, but I don’t have all day.”

Thundercracker sneered. “I didn’t think you knew how to have a conversation. I thought you only knew how to scheme.”

“Don’t be fooled, I’m still quite good at that. And you’re one to talk, I doubt I said more than six words to you in any given “conversation” during the war.”

“There wasn’t much I wanted to talk about.” 

“And now all of a sudden there _ is _ ?” Starscream scoffed, waving a hand and picking up the datapad. “You’re wasting my time. The hunt is over, don’t you have a dog to get back to?”

“She’s in good hands.”

“With what? Your human friend? I’m sure she’s more equipped to handle an organic than you are, maybe you should leave the dog with her,” Starscream couldn't help but push. It wasn’t particularly hard to get on Thundercracker’s nerves. As much as the blue seeker loved to claim he was the calmest and most collected of the bunch, he was certainly the most bitter. It was fun to watch him lose his temper. 

Thundercracker scowled. “You’re trying to make me angry,” he said, narrowing his optics. “It’s not going to work. You haven’t answered my question.”

Again Starscream rolled his eyes, putting the data pad down and turning his full attention back to his former wing mate. “And what question would that be?”

“How did you do it?”

“Do  _ what _ ?”

“Get here!? It doesn’t make any sense. Friends and a titan? Really? You can’t expect me to believe that, who did you have to stab in the back? Who did you manipulate? Who did you trick and kill and ruin!? You think I’m dumb enough to believe you just  _ earned  _ your people’s vote!? That everyone was crazy enough to think you  _ qualified _ for the position?!”

Starscream’s calm demeanor fell away. He stood from his seat in a rage, but quickly smothered the flame. A second later he smirked. Standing up straight he crossed his arms. One wing went down, then back up, the other followed in suit before they both hiked up and rattled. 

Thundercracker gasped. Insulted. “That was a lewd gesture!” he snapped, pointing to his former trine leader. “That was  _ completely  _ uncalled for!” 

“Are we done with this conversation?” Starscream inquired, hoping his gesture would stunt Thundercracker’s curiosity. 

“Not on your life, Screamer.”

The anger reignited in Starscream’s frame. “I told you never to call me that!!” 

“What are you going to do!? Shoot me in the back again!? Go on, do it! Show your citizens what you  _ really _ are!” 

Starscream stepped around the desk and approached his unwelcome guest. After a few steps he stopped short, patting down the flames one again. With a scowl he snapped his gaze away from the source of his rage. “Just leave,” he growled. “Go back to your fabulous life with your dog and your human and your _ earth”  _

Thundercracker scowled. “I fear for your people,” he said quietly. “I hope you don’t drag them into another war,” he growled. 

Starscream’s head snapped up. The emotion on his face was unreadable, but it mostly radiated with surprise and anger. “How  _ dare _ you,” he growled, “You think I would  _ ever  _ consider going back to war!?” 

“I don’t see why not. You seemed to have a fine time the first time over.”

“Of  _ course _ , you idiot, getting the slag beaten out of me every cycle for four million years was just the _ highlight _ of my existence. I will  _ never _ allow this planet to fall back into war like that. Do you hear me!?  _ Never _ !” 

“I find that hard to believe, considering the first war you started.”

“Oh, so now you want to blame me for the entire war?”

“You dragged us into it!”

“Megatron dragged us into it you dolt!”

“And who dragged us to Megatron?”

A stiff silence fell over the room.

“I trusted him.” Starscream’s voice was smaller than he intended. 

“Yeah. You did. And you were stupid to.” 

“I wanted to give us a better life! Didn’t you want that?”

“Not through tyranny!”

There was a pause. 

“Then why didn’t you just leave?” Starscream spat.

“And go where?”

“Run off to your precious Autobots. You certainly helped them enough.”

Thundercracker scowled. “I’m no Autobot.”

“You weren’t much of a Deception either.”

“What does that even mean any more, Screamer? Can you tell me that? Is it the cold, war thirty machine, or the people tired of being oppressed? Our saying, what was it? You are being deceived? Well who do you feel deceived by now?” 

“That old fool wasted out time.”

“And that’s all you care about isn’t it?”

“He promised us a life free from _ judgement _ and  _ oppression _ . Free from  _ apartheid _ and _ destitution _ . Free from wing hunting. I was  _ stupid _ to follow him, to listen to him. Is that what you want to hear!?  _ Fine! _ I’ll say it. The end  _ didn’t  _ justify the means, because  _ there was no end! _ A lot of good those words do me now, and a lot of good they do you! I tried to stop that raving lunatic, what did you do!?”

Thundercracker scowled. “You were the only person crazy enough to take him head on.”

“Exactly. You want to blame this all on me, fine, go ahead. But just remember who made some level of  _ attempt _ to drag us from the pits.”

Thundercracker pointed a sharp finger at his former trine leader. “Don’t act like you did it for anyone but yourself,” he spat. “You’re just a power hungry leech. That’s all you’ve ever been.” 

Starscream sneered. “Don’t act so innocent. They didn’t _ respect  _ me. But they  _ feared  _ you,” Starscream narrowed his eyes. “And I’m sure you know why.” 

“You made me this.” Thundercracker growled. 

“I didn’t make you into  _ anything _ . Whatever you did you always had the potential to do in the first place. You have wings. You could have just flown away, and I assure you not so many would have come after you as they would have me. You want to throw blame to me. You want to stand on some moral pedestal of righteousness, well Thundercracker, you have  _ none _ . You were right beside me, destroying Autobots, killing other species. But you were just  _ following orders _ weren’t you?” 

“Megatron should have killed you.” 

“You’re right. He should have. But I never get what I want do I? Not from him.”

Thundercracker took pause. That...wasn’t the reply he was expecting. A second later he scowled, turned on a heel, and left. 

As soon as he was gone Starscream's stiff demeanor fell. He went around his desk and slumped back into his chair, the need to do work abandoning him. He pinched the rim of his brow. That probably could have gone better. Though, then again, probably not. 

 

* * *

 

Thundercracker stomped back to where he was supposed to meet Windblade for their goodbye. They were meeting at the entrance to the space bridge so Windblade could send him back. Still bitter from his ‘conversation’ with Starscream, Thundercracker continued to wear a scowl on his face. As soon as Windblade arrived she handed him a data pad. “Your own copy,” she explained, concern falling over her features at the sight of his scowl. “Are you alright?” she inquired as they started towards the space bridge.

Thundercracker quickly subspaced the data pad, hardly paying any mind to it. 

“I’m fine,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Just had a _ great _ conversation with Screamer.”

“Has there ever been a time when you two got along?”

“None I can remember."

“What about a time when you at least...partially liked him."

“As far as I know I’ve never liked him, and as far as I can tell I never will."

“Well, there must’ve been a time when you at least liked him a little. You were a trine. You followed him for four million years, I mean...doesn’t that count for anything?”

Thundercracker lifted an angry brow. “Yeah I followed him. I followed him into a stupid war that should’ve never happened,” his scowl deepened. “Is that what this was about? You sent me in there because you wanted me to talk to him, didn’t you!?”

“What?! No, I--”

“I _ hate _ Starscream, and he hates me! And there’s a damn good reason for it. We were a military unit, that’s _ it _ . You have the same curiosity about us like  _ everyone else.”  _

“Thundercracker, I--”

“Well, news flash, we’re not special! We haven’t been a trine in years! But that’s how everyone thinks of us. I don’t want to be that stupid trine any more. I want to be  _ Thundercracker! _ I want Starscream to be Starscream, and I want that  _ idiot _ back on earth to be Skywarp,” his face suddenly fell. “I just want to be happy,” he practically pleaded. “And this damn planet is so determined to take that away from me.”

“Thundercracker,” Windblade said softly, putting a hand on her friends arms. “I didn’t-- I thought.”

“Well you thought wrong-” Thundercracker spat, pulling away from her touch. “Just send me home.

Windblade’s face fell with a sad confusion. If she did anything wrong she certainly didn’t mean to. Not entirely any ways. It was true, she was interested in the trine, and she wanted the former wing mates to talk, but tricking Thundercracker was not her intention. Frankly she was angered that Thundercracker would accuse her of such a thing. She was no Starscream. Yet, Thundercracker seemed keen to compare them too often. 

Windblade’s sadness fell into a scowl. She aggressively flipped the switch to activate the ground bridge. “Have a good life,” she wished as he sparoached the space bridge. “I’ll see you later.” 

Thundercracker scowled right back, sparing his partner one last glance before stepping through.

 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Starscream stayed slumped in his chair until the sun began to fall over the horizon. At that point he shoved himself from the seat and wandered over to the window where he watched the sun fall over his planet. It was quite a sight, one Starscream used to relish watching. The view had not become stale, but it was a reminder that another day fell from Starscream’s rule. 

Starscream was drawn from his thoughts by a sound. Something small. A tap against the wall

Starscream didn’t move. Something wasn’t right. 

Someone was there. 

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Thundercracker flew back to his flat in Autobot city. Marissa was already asleep on her cot in the corner by the time he arrived. It was late there, nearly two in the morning. He was greeted immediately by Buster who at first barked at the intruder before recognizing him as he owner and wagging her tail with excitement. 

Thundercracker smiled at his dog, kneeling down and presenting his hand so she could get up and greet him properly. 

“Hey girl,” he said quietly, bringing the dog to his face so she could lick it. Thundercracker reached into his subspace to get her toy. His hand was first met with the data pad Windblade had given him. He scowled at the object and threw it on his desk to look it over after he was done playing with his dog. It could probably help him write a detective novel properly, so he saw reason to keep it. 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

A sharp pain met the side of Starscream’s head. He winced, hand flying to whatever had hit him. He plucked a needle from his audio receptor with a growl. Despite the pain Starscream kept his cool as he checked his comm. It was completely out of commission, taken out by the impact. 

Before he could get another thought in another needle struck him in the throat. Blood spurted from the wound as Starscream clamped his hand over it 

 

\----------------------------------

 

Thundercracker read over the data pad. It wasn’t very exciting at first, nothing he hadn’t seen before. 

As he read however, he saw something. Something he failed to notice before he left the planet. 

Mumbling to himself he out the file in order. “Cold, cold, forged, cold, forged, co--” he was cut short

Quickly Thundercracker flew himself from the desk and began running for the space bridge. 

“Windblade!” he called into his comm. She wasn’t answering. Of course she wasn’t! Not after the way they parted. “Windblade! Please, you need to pick up!” he called, nearly wiping out as he wiped around a corner. 

“Windblade!”

 

\------------------------------

 

Carefully Starscream drew his sword, still standing before the window, he waited patiently for the intruder to strike first. 

He knew what they were after, and he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. 

Not again. 

 

\------------------------------

 

“I was wrong, I was so wrong!” Thundercracker left his fourth message as he rushed to the space bridge. “This isn’t what I thought it was!” 

 

\------------------------------

 

The intruder stepped forward. 

 

\------------------------------

 

“They’re fighting a war!”

 

\-------------------------------

 

Starscream turned and blocked the first blow. For a moment he was in shock. “You,” he vented before the intruder pulled away and went for another blow. “You’re dead!” Starscream raged, blocking the much bigger bots sword. 

“Scum like you don’t deserve those wings!” the other raged, increasing the intensity of his swings. “Only Primus may grant those who are worthy with the blessing of flight!” with one swift movement he kicked Starscream in the chest, sending him to the ground. 

“I d-d-on’t--two frags--- p-p-rimus,,” Starscream spat, trying to climb to his feet bet getting a prompt pede to the chest. The damage to his vocalizer cut off his words and glitched his sentences.

The large leaned down. “You’re _ disgusting, _ ” he spat, flipping over his victim and grabbing him at the base of the wings. “And unworthy.” 

With a swift, all too slow movement, the wings were torn from Starcsream’s back. The seeker screamed in agony, his damaged vocalizer distorting his screams into a horrid sound.  When the wings were finally parted from their owner the intruder stepped back. “Soon all of the knock offs will know the justice of Star Saber,” he promised. “Your wings are merely a small part of my collection.” 

Starcsream shook with rage and pain. He scowled into the puddle of his own blood, determined, more than ever, not to let the bastard escape. “T-t-think a-a-a-ggain,” he growled, the flipping open the tip of his finger and pressing the button beneath it. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

Wheeljack wa awoken by the beep at the end of his desk. At first he was confused, but he soon remembered what it meant. “Starscream,” he vented, then flying from his seat and booking it up to the tower, com’ing Flat Line on the way. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Starscream shielded his head from the explosion. With a great struggle he managed to climb to his knees and look at the damage that had been done. Star Saber laid knocked out on the floor, scorch marks covering his frame. His hands had been completely blown off. After finding the threat had been neutralized Starscream fell, the great loss of blood finally getting the best of him. 

When Wheeljack arrived he stopped short in the doorway. 

“Dear primus.”


	10. Chapter 10

Starscream awoke with a start on a berth in the medical ward. Upon waking he shot bolt upright, his weapons primed and ready to fire. A pair of hands were on him in an instant. “Starscream!” Wheeljack called. “It’s us. You’re safe,” he assured, keeping a firm grip on the Seeker’s arm. 

Starscream stared at him wide eyed, his mind trying to wrap itself around the circumstances of him being there. “Wh--” he tried to speak but found he couldn’t. A hand flew to his throat as a sharp pain shot through his vocalizer.    


“Don’t try to speak,” Wheeljack urged calmly. “Your vocalizer has been severely damaged.”

Then Starscream remembered. For a moment he tried to feel them. Feel that which he had lost. But they were gone. Absent from his back, reduced to nothing but nubs. Starscream’s face twisted in a mess of emotion. 

Fear.

Sorrow.

Anger.

There was no one emotion that could truly cover the extent of his response. With shaking servos Starscream reached back, hesitantly finding the empty space. A hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Wheeljack urged, keeping his tone calm but stern. Starscream’s scowled at him before fiercely pulling his wrist away. Eyeing the scientist Starscream reached back again, this time reaching his target. Wheeljack met his gaze, eyes never wavering as Starscream felt around for the nubs. 

Starscreams’s gaze faltered when he found the still raw wound and jolted with pain. They had been cauterized recently, so it was still tender and warm. 

“I told you not to do it,” Wheeljack said, crossing his arms. 

Starscream went to speak again but was thwarted when a sharp pain went through his throat. 

“I also told ya not to speak. Here,” Wheeljack handed him something that appeared to be a datapad, a pen, and a...well, Starscream didn’t know what it was. 

Starscream stared at the object for a moment before turning to Wheeljack for answers. 

“You can write on it,” Wheeljack explained, taking the pen and scribbling something on the gray screen. “See? Then-” he took the eraser and ran it over what he’d written. “You just erase it with this thing. Get it? I thought it’d be better than having to write all over a buncha datapads.”

Starscream looked between the device and his friend for a moment before scribbling down a “Thanks” and showing it to Wheeljack. 

“No problem.”

Wheeljack waited patiently for Starscream to write something else. “Where’s Star Sabre?”

“He’s in the brig, but you don’t gotta worry about that. Doc wants you restin’ for now.”

Wheeljack tried to ease him back into the berth but Starscream was having none of it. With a scowl Starscream swatted his friend’s hand away and threw his legs over the berth to stand. As soon as he got to his feet the world began to spin. A few steps in the floor began to feel as though it was moving under his feet. Starscream’s sensors couldn’t make sense of the room and he stumbled back against the berth. 

Wheeljack waited patiently for Starscream to give up on walking. Of course, being Starscream, he never did. 

Eventually, after several failures, Wheeljack sighed and decided enough was enough. He came around the berth and went to the middle of the floor where Starscream had just fallen over.

“Need a hand?” Wheeljack asked, putting out his hand for Starscream to take. 

Starscream just eyed it for a moment before taking the aid offered to him. With some effort Wheeljack managed to haul the bot to his feet. “Great,” he said once the deed was done. “Now let’s get you back to the berth.” 

Instead of turning and walking back to his berth Starscream made a break for the door again. Wheeljack huffed a throaty sigh of frustration. “Starscream!” he called, walking beside the bot and helping to steady him every time he looked as though he was about to stumble over. “You’re not supposed to be outta berth yet. Flatline’s gonna kill me if he finds you missing!”

Starscream paused and scribbled something down on his note pad, leaning on Wheeljack slightly as he did so as not to fall over. 

“Well that’s your problem then isn’t it?” he wrote. 

Wheeljack was not amused. In protest he moved away just slightly. Slightly enough that Starscream was no longer leaning on him and so went crashing to the ground. 

Even without words or seeing his face Wheeljack could tell the seeker was fuming as he laid there on the ground. 

Wheeljack knelt down beside him. “Look,” he started. “I don’t like being mean to an injured bot, but if being just as stubborn and harsh as you is the only thing that’ll get you back in that berth and get some rest then I am more than willing to go that far.” 

Starscream just scowled at him for a moment before finding the strength to get back to his feet. As soon as Starscream was on his pedes and moving towards the door  _ again _ , Wheeljack sighed. “Damn Seekers,” he mumbled, hauling himself to his feet. 

By the time he caught up Starscream was halfway down the hallway, keeping himself steady with the wall. 

“Where are you even going?” Wheeljack asked, walking beside the seeker. “I already told ya, Stars Sabre’s been put in the brig. Windblade’s been takin’ care’a yer work.”

At that Starscream seemed to pause. When he started up again he attempted a pace much faster than before. Wheeljack rolled his eyes before stepping to catch up. “What do you think she’s gonna do?” he inquired. “Bring ya down from the inside out? Come on, Screamer, I know you’re paranoid but maybe take a break from it for a day. Hell, ten minutes would be good.”

Starscream merely shot him a glare, not ceasing his pace. As soon as he tried to go faster he tripped over his feet. Face down on the floor Strarscream growled with frustration. He slammed his fists on the ground a few times before trying to shove himself to his feet once again. Wheeljack grabbed him by the arm and impatiently helped haul him to his feet. “Listen,” he started. “Tell me what in this damn world I have to do to get you to stop embarrassing yourself like this.”

With a sneer Starscream tugged himself out of Wheeljack’s grip. “Get me Windblade,” he rasped, his voice glitching and broken. It hurt to speak, but Starscream couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“Will you go back to the med-bay?”

Starscream nodded, scowl still on his face. 

“Good. I’ll get her on the line.” 

 

* * *

 

Starscream wanted nothing more than to rant and rave to the Camien before him. Unfortunately a damaged vocalizer forced him to listen more than speak, so he was stuck with Windblade explaining to him exactly how she and Thundercracker had messed up so badly as to let someone as dangerous as Star Saber slip under their radar.    


“Obviously he wasn’t apart of any of the organizations we shut down.”

Starscream rolled his eyes. Yes, that was very obvious, Windblade had always been very good at pointing out the obvious. What Starscream wanted to know was what was being done about it. While he didn’t expect Thundercracker to be visiting him Starscream did expect the Blue wonder to be attached to Windblade’s side like he had been as of late. 

Starscream scribbled the name on his data pad with a question mark on the end. At the mention of Thundercracker Windblade’s demeanor seemed to change. It was something on par with confusion, as well as guilt and frustration. “Thundercracker went back to earth. I’m looking into it with Ironhide, though.”

Frankly, despite his indifference for the bot, Starscream thought Thundercracker was a better for for the mission. Though he couldn’t say he was opposed to having that seeker off his planet. 

Before Windblade could say more she was interrupted. Nearly as soon as her fingers met her head she rolled her eyes. “Please excuse me, I’m getting a comm.”

Starscream wanted to say something but quickly remembered that he couldn’t without Wheeljack dogging on him. Instead he shot a glare to Wheeljack who remained standing beside the berth. Wheeljack met his gaze, but his casual ams crossed demeanor didn’t falter. Starscream gestured with an arm towards Windblade who was walking out of the room. 

“What?” Wheeljack shrugged. “You want me to stop her?”

Starscream gestured more intensely, this time with both hands.  

“She’s just taking a comm, she’ll be back.”

Starscream threw his arms up in frustration. Yes, he wanted him to stop her! Starscream smacked himself in the head and held his face for a moment. He was the ruler of Cybertron for Primus sake, even without a voice Wheeljack should be doing what he says. 

 

* * *

 

Windblade took the comm in the hall. At first she thought it was another message from Thundercracker. To her surprise, however, it was Jetfire. 

“Windblade, I was hoping you’d answer.”

“What is this about? I’m in the middle of something of some importance.”

“I think you’ll find what I have to also be of some importance. I need you to meet me at the space bridge as soon as you can.”

“Why?”

“Someone needs to speak to you.”

Windblade scowled. “If this is about Thundercracker-”

“I never said Thundercracker. I said someone. Will you meet me or not? Because if you won’t then I’m sure I can get Wheeljack to do the job just as easily."

Windblade thought on the matter for moment. If this was Thundercracker than she didn’t want to be the one to greet him when he came through. Then again Wheeljack was on Starscream duty, and there were very few, if any, other bots who could take on that task with any conceivable level of success. 

“I’ll meet you at the bridge,” she agreed. 

“Thank you.” 

Windblade cut off the comm. The last thing she really wanted to do was go back in there and tell Starscream that she had to cut the meeting short. That was sure to get a silent rant thrown in her direction. After a deep vent Windblade turned on a heel and went back into the med bay. 

 

* * *

 

Starscream was shaking his friend by the shoulder trying desperately to get his point across. 

“Will you just use your board, I can’t understand you when you communicate like this,” Wheeljack said casually, as if this were a normal occurrence.

Starscream was tempted to slap him, but he would never slap Wheeljack. That didn’t eliminate the temptation, however. 

“Windblade,” Wheeljack addressed. “Have you and Ironhide many any progress?”

Starscream released him and set his attention on Windblade. 

“I think that’s what he wants to know,” Wheeljack shrugged. “I’m not sure, though, because he won’t talk.”

Starscream punched the scientist in the arm, all reservations off. 

“Ow. That was uncalled for,” Wheeljack complained, rubbing his arm. “And by talk I mean he won’t write anything down. He just keeps gesturing.” 

Windblade glanced at Starscream. “Ironhide and I haven’t had much time. I’ll be sure to keep you updated. I’m sorry, Starscream, but I’ll have to cut this meeting short. I can bring by the work you missed in a couple hours if you want me to.”

Starscream made a vague face that Windblade interpreted as him saying that was obviously something he wanted her to do. 

“I'll get right on it. As soon as Ironhide and I find something you’ll be the first to know, but right now I have to go.” 

Starscream huffed as she left, crossing his arms. “Ingrate,” he rasped. 

Wheeljack shot him a glare. “hey. What did I say about talking?” 

Starscream just waved a hand, rolling his eyes at the persistent scientist. 

 

* * *

 

Windblade waited at the space bridge. She was tempted to tap her foot impatiently, but that felt too much like a move Starscream would make. 

Instead she stood, stalk stiff and expression hard, her arms crossed against her chest. The space bridge lit up. Windblade remained as she was. 

To her surprise Jetfire stepped through first. “I was asked to come ahead,” he said once standing right in front of her. “because he knew you'd be mad.” 

Windblade pulled a face. “So it is Thundercracker.” 

The seeker of that namesake came fumbling through the space bridge next. He seemed almost frantic as he ran to Windblade. “Windblade!” He called. “I know you're mad and I know you don’t want to talk to me, and for good reason, but I have something important to tell you!” 

Windblade's hard demeanor faltered at Thundercracker's behavior. The seeker grabbed her by the arms, though not hard. “it's the Wing hunting, it's not what I thought. I was wrong! I was wrong about everything, we-” 

“I know.” 

Thundercracker paused. “you-” his expression turned from confused to horrified. “did something happen?” 

“Starscream got a nasty visit from a bot named Star Saber. He’s in the med-bay now.” 

“So we’re too late,” Thundercracker muttered, releasing Windblade. 

“Star Saber is in prison, Ironhide and I are investigating whether or not he’s been acting alone.” 

Thundercracker’s head shot up. “I think I figured it out,” he said quickly. “And he wouldn’t be acting alone,” he drew the datapad from his subspace and began flipping through it. “I noticed a pattern when I was looking through our case files. It was all done on purpose, the hunting, the targets, everything.”

Windblade’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I follow.” 

Thundercracker gripped the datapad with two hands and took a somewhat wary look at his partner. Windblade would almost describe it as sheepish. “You’re- still mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t matter now. What do you think you found out?”

Thundercracker’s shoulders fell slightly. For a second he just stared at Windblade with an unreadable expression. After the phase passed he stepped forward and presented to her the datapad. “There’s a pattern,” he said, trying to keep his tone more neutral this time. “This started out with bots that were cold constructed,” he pointed out, showing her a list of the report dates and the victim’s construction. “Boss said that a pair of wings just showed up on Velocitron, like someone just let them on his doorstep. I think they were planted to try and create a distraction while Forged bots and CC’s fought their own little underground war. There’s someone at the top here.”

Windblade flipped through the list as Thundercracker spoke, taking note of where the pattern changed from CC to Forged, and where it began going back and forth from week to week and day to day. 

“It’s probably Star Sabre who inspired the forged bots,” Thundercracker continued. “But we don’t have any evidence leading us to who lead the resistance for the Cold bots.” 

Windblade thought for a moment. She stared blankly at the information in her hand and thought. The Cold Constructed bots, to her understanding, had been oppressed for their entire existence. There were few among them who could, or would, truly take on the role of leader. The only person who came to mind was Starscream, but he wouldn’t do something like this. At least not now. Maybe in the past Starscream would be quick to exact and inspire revenge for being wronged. A thought suddenly sprang to mind. 

“Thundercracker,” she said sharpy, turning her head to look at the bot. “Beside’s Starscream, who’s the most influential Cold Constructed bot you know?”

At this Thundercracker made a face. It was somewhat confused, but somewhat thoughtful. “Uhh, Megatron? Maybe? But he’s gone.”

Windblade turned fully to the bot. “Who else?”

Thundercracker shrugged a shoulder. “Probably Seekers, such as myself or even Skywarp, maybe. I really don’t know, most of them would be Decepticons, but they’re either dead, in prison, on earth, or nowhere to be found...It doesn’t  _ have _ to be a significant bot. Megatron certainly wasn’t anything special when he rose in the ranks.”

Windblade put a finger to her chin in thought. “You’re right,” she grumbled. But then another thought hit her. “What if they don’t have a leader at all?”

Thundercracker lifted a brow as Windblade began flipping through her own datapad. Thundercracker didn’t seem to get it. “What did they have then?”

Windblade presented to him a picture of Starscream the day he was inaugurated. 

“An influence.”


End file.
